The InBetween Times
by Helena Fallon
Summary: The aftermath of the Tobias Henkel case.Spencer is on sick leave but has to come to terms with his past experiences to begin to truly heal.A psychologist and a psychiatrist are assigned to help him explore his past life in order to cope with the present.
1. Chapter 1

**The In - Between Times**

**By Helena Fallon**

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds and no infringement of copyright is intended. I have borrowed a few characters and the rest is my imagination.

Dr. Spencer Reid had been in this very private clinic for 4 weeks now. The Bureau considered that being kidnapped, tortured and injected with highly addictive Dilaudid against his will, was worthy of the finest facility it could offer to give him the best chance to recover. Well 'recover' was not something you easily did, especially when the experience of the drug had re-opened the memories locked deep in the vaults of his mind. Max Pentall was the Chief Psychologist in the Bureau and he was not going to let Spencer Reid pull the wool over his eyes, even if he could run rings round his mentor.

Max had visited Reid at the hospital in Georgia within 12 hours of being taken there. They had given Reid a tox screen test automatically on arrival. Reid had given Hotch the two small bottles, he'd taken from Tobias, in the ambulance before his world tilted away from his then fragile hold on normality, as shock and the craving for the drugs both kicked in. Reid had told Hotch that he wanted to keep the little bottles as mementoes of the ordeal that he had survived. Hotch, of course, gave him back empty bottles once he was through the initial detox. But one night Spencer had filled them with water, like a child would fill a toy teapot to play a game, in Spencer's mind it was a game of over coming the urge to eventually fill the bottles with the real thing.

Max was fascinated by the psychology that Spencer adopted for himself. The teams of psychologists and psychiatrists, who oversaw the mental health of the agents, were very experienced in their respective fields and were assigned to agents depending on those strengths. During his 5 years with the Bureau, Spencer had seen a number of them: the men outnumbered the women and Reid admitted that he always felt more comfortable talking with a man than the older middle-aged women. Spencer Reid was both an enigma and special for the organisation: Reid was use to being prodded and poked with what these experts considered searching questions, and he tried to play their games with good humour.

Psychologists particularly had wanted to observe him from an early age because he belonged to that small group labelled as genius. A true genius was different to the merely gifted, who might excel in just one particular field. A genius was a polymath who found learning far easier than their fellows and whose brains functioned in their own unique way to make them appear super intelligent. Max knew his people and the ones that Spencer could manipulate, so he took a very special interest in this agent's present state of health, both mental and physical.

Max sat reviewing the file of this young agent. He knew that his BAU colleagues were very concerned about him. There appeared to be only his mentally sick mother listed as 'immediate family' and Gideon and Hotchner, appeared as next of kin, for medical decisions in case of emergencies. Max had read the whole BAU teams' files and it was noted on everyone of them that each of his colleagues were aware of his youth, social awkwardness and lack of close relationships in his life. Each of these colleagues had expressed their need as a team, to be like a family for Reid because his only experience of 'normal' family life was through books and academic studies. Gideon had done a very good job initially mentoring him, but then Gideon had experienced his depressive break. Max was beginning to watch Jason Gideon a little more these days; sometimes Gideon resented criticism concerning his mentoring of the young agent.

The hospital had at first been very concerned about the dehydration and physical signs of abuse with various injuries ranging from head trauma, cracked ribs, bruising and various cuts. These were then compounded by the drugs within his system and the dilemma of how best to treat the obvious drug withdrawal alongside a head injury. However, in the end, Reid had remained at the hospital for a week while he was observed carefully and detoxed before being moved to this exclusive clinic to deal with the after effects of the ordeal. So far, he was managing to cope with the cravings for Dilaudid: he admitted that they were there and the staff had been very supportive with one to one mentoring. Max smiled as he remembered that yesterday he had found Glen, the male nurse assigned for the morning, desperately trying to keep up with the effortless backstroke that Reid was practising down the pool. He then flipped over at the end and began a streamlined crawl for the next length to reach the opposite end and a relaxing chat with Max himself. The agent had grinned mischievously as he relaxed on the side of the pool waiting for Glen to reach them.

Spencer Reid had turned to Max and said, "It was Glen's suggestion to have a swim, thought it would be good for my healing body. Personally, I think he was ducking out of going outside because of the cold wind today."

"OK, I confess, I thought this would be nice and warm," Glen replied as he reached the side somewhat breathless by comparison. "You're a good swimmer."

Max stared at the emaciated man sitting on the side of the pool. The clinic staff was very pleased with his progress and he didn't seem to get unduly upset by the constant watch unlike other patients there. Max got the impression that the staff genuinely liked being with him but then that was Spencer Reid's charm. Reid could be very disarming by being so innocently charming but he was a very capable, and consequently very manipulative, psychologist. To this end he was his own worse enemy and Max needed to break into the fortress that held the real Spencer before he would be able to truly heal. Max Pentall suspected that there were years of emotional denial to get through before they could achieve this.

Max had watched the profiler play his role: he was too calm and too perfect a patient, he was repressing the real reaction to the whole traumatic episode. There had of course been the distressing time of the raw agony and embarrassment of losing physical control over his bodily functions during the initial detox. Reid was a fastidious young man, not a fancy dresser but a personally clean man who had hated being so dirty and smelly when he was found. It had been one of the first things that Reid had told him about when Max had visited him in Georgia. Then there had been his disgust over the effects of the detox…sheer excruciating agony but the shakes, sweating, vomiting and diarrhoea had been far worst because he had lost his dignity in the lack of privacy.

Gideon had stepped reluctantly back. Max had reasoned that the loss of Reid's private space would make it harder for him to return to the unit if his colleagues witnessed this physical vulnerability. When Reid was more coherent, he had told Max that he would prefer that his colleagues didn't visit him until he felt more like himself. The Chief Psychologist understood; he had seen others crumple out in the field but it was part of their mental healing, for their journey back to work not to be witnessed by their colleagues. Colleagues were usually concerned, but the patient's wishes had to be respected, and in this case Max felt Spencer was happier dealing just with the clinic's staff. The staff here had no preconceived idea of who Spencer was as a person, and in his mind, Spencer hoped he was never going to see them again once he was allowed home. If Spencer Reid woke up screaming from a nightmare or was cruelly snappish he was just another patient to these people, not a colleague or friend who desperately wanted the old Reid back in the workplace.

Max looked at Spencer Reid's former contacts with the Bureau's mental health team; he had sent Arthur to Reid's apartment to get some of his own clothes. It was now time to take a more active part in re-building this unique profiler. Max had chosen Arthur because Reid seemed to have a good rapport with him at the mandatory psych. evaluations. For Max there was the problem of which of the psychiatrists would be best to work alongside Arthur. He had been thinking over the possibilities for a couple of hours, and was getting no further. Max knew he had to get it right because the psychologist and the psychiatrist had to work well together professionally or Reid would pick up the tension, or dissension, and use it against them to protect his little world.

The phone rang breaking into his deliberations.

"Max Pentall," he said, leaning back into the comfortable leather chair.

"Arthur," replied the deep voice from the receiver. "I've got a selection of Reid's clothes, do you want me to take them over tonight?"

"Yes, do that but don't tell him you'll be back to share breakfast with him in the morning. Let's try and get the upper hand from the start."

"Fine. Have you decided who'll be my partner yet?"

"I've been going round in circles, Arthur, but I've narrowed it down to Vince or Don because they both have excellent track records with kidnap cases and family trauma. Any preference?"

"They're both good, but Vince will probably be too extrovert for the patient. Don is older and quieter and his own original social awkwardness might help Reid to see that you can grow out of it."

"Good point, but I thought you might find Don a little too quiet for yourself?" asked Max, wanting Arthur to feel comfortable himself. Usually in these pairing situations, Arthur had a tendency to balance his own quiet authority with a more colourful one.

"I was thinking of Spencer. He really does like quieter people and you want us to get to the bottom of his emotional turmoil, I just think he'll respond better. Max the decision is yours really…I can work with either."

"You've a valid point and I need to choose so I'll make it Don and ring him to set up a case meeting, OK?"

"It's good with me, I'll get on my way to the clinic with these things, Bye for now." Arthur said decisively and cut the connection. He turned the ignition key and headed out of the car park for the freeway.

End of Chapter 1


	2. Chapter 2

The In – Between Times: Chapter 2 

**By Helena Fallon**

Spencer woke with a jolt. For a few moments he was disorientated but the soft glow of the corridor lights filtered in through the small rectangular window of opaque glass in the door. He turned to face the clock on the wall and read it's illuminated numerals: 06:45. He had snatched a couple of hours sleep since the last nightmare. The man breathed deeply repressing the memories but he had called out in his terror and Julian had shook him awake and talked to him. It was a common occurrence and Spencer knew that this staff responded correctly to their patient's distress.

Some nights, if it was in the very early hours, the nurse on duty would take him down to the small kitchen and they would make hot chocolate and chat. Spencer sometimes would speak a little about the dreams but he never told the whole truth; he just kept going over the initial kidnap and his fear that J.J. was all right. This seemed to satisfy the staff and few would press further, even if they suspected his deliberate evasion. The clinic was used by various government agencies and these people were very aware that their patients preferred to talk to 'their own people', but they were trained to always be there as a listener for their patients. It really was an excellent facility, Spencer mused, with the one to one attention at all times and the space the clinic provided for the outside mental health professionals from the different agencies.

Spencer was aware of at least 8 other patients in the wing that he occupied but all seemed to keep a certain aloofness from each other. When he first arrived the cheerful, Gary, had wheeled him to his room and told him the rules.

"No prying into other patient's business. We have people from other government agencies here so the rule is: first names only and followed by your agency. So you're Spencer, FBI." Gary informed him, "We don't discuss our work. You can talk about anything but your job or the organisation that sent you here. Get it? You then don't have to say anything about your reasons for being here."

Spencer had nodded relieved that he would have some privacy, it was a relief that he saw everyday in the guarded looks of his fellow patients. The patients had regular visits from 'their own people' and these were the ones you opened up to. Or rather, you were encouraged to open up to. Spencer was wary of Max although he knew he was excellent at his job but he hoped that Max was not going to be personally on his case. He was delighted last night when Arthur turned up with a suitcase of clothes from his apartment. Spencer knew it was a good psychological ploy to make a patient feel more comfortable to wear familiar clothes and 'more likely to let their guard down' a tiny inner voice reminded him.

The wall clock silently changed numerals: 06:55 the green numerals stared back at him. Another 5 minutes and he would hear the kitchen staff begin to clatter around down stairs. The food was very good but the patients all seemed to have poor appetites and rarely finished what was served or if they did, they threw up their stomach contents a little while later. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or PTSD his mind told him was why they were all here and, like his fellow patients, he had the added complication of drugs which this wing specialised in.

There was a soft rap on his door; he heard it open and turned to look who was illuminated by the corridor lights. He had been expecting to see a familiar shape dressed in the mid blue sweatshirt top and slacks of a male nurse but the man who entered was not a nurse.

"'Morning, Spencer," the deep voice greeted, "Have a reasonable night?" he asked as the room was suddenly filled with the soft glow of the room's central ceiling light. It was a gentle light and soothing for those who had suffered untold tortures.

"Yeah, not too bad," Spencer replied, still puzzled by the appearance of Arthur so early in the morning.

"Good, we're having breakfast together," the small rounded man said with a certain relish. Spencer eyed the waistline and it was very evident that Arthur enjoyed his food. Arthur was also a very fine psychologist and Spencer always relaxed when his previous psych evaluations had been with this man.

"Right…so do I have time to shower?" Spencer asked feeling his way tentatively and still unsure what was going to happen.

"Good idea, it'll waken you up, see you in the dining room in 30 minutes," Arthur briskly announced and was suddenly gone.

Spencer got up and concluded as he showered and shaved that obviously the FBI mental health department was now beginning the next level of his re-habilitation.

He dressed slowly thinking over the past few weeks. The man remembered how weak he had physically felt when he first arrived and needed to sleep, but the sleep was itself a form of torture as he relived his ordeal in distorted nightmares. The staff was reluctant to give sleeping pills but he was given them for a couple of weeks because he was so exhausted. However, they had not wanted him to become dependent on these drugs and now, because he was physically stronger and keeping more food down, they had weaned him off them. Spencer knew that the nurses were there to re-assure if he woke up from a nightmare and often would intervene if a patient was shouting out, trapped in their personal hell.

He hated it. It was like being a child all over again. He slammed the door shut quickly in his mind: he didn't need those memories now. He reached for a patterned shirt, an old favourite, it felt so comfortable to his skin, the smell of his usual washing detergent was pathetically re-assuring in this alien world of the clinic. He had been wearing the clinic clothes of a light green sweatshirt and darker green pants, like some of the other patients. When Arthur brought a case full of his own clothes last night it had been a turning point. Spencer had concluded that you were allowed your own clothes when the staff thought you were strong enough for the next stage of the programme. The next stage meant that he was healing, even if at times Spencer found it hard to believe in himself and that he would be able to return to the BAU.

He pulled on his old brown slacks, they hung too loosely and he had to pull the plain brown leather belt in further than usual to capture another notch. He looked briefly at his reflection in the windows as he passed down the corridor, it was beginning to lighten outside but there was still a chill of winter in the air. The dining area was always the warmest part in this wing so he didn't bother with a sweater, but had chosen a dark brown knitted vest with three blue thin stripes just above the rib at the bottom. Reid was pleased that his reflection showed a smarter looking man than he had felt in the clinic's clothes. Yes he was pleased with his choices, they all co-ordinated, the white shirt with the tiny brown motif pattern was just right. But best of all, he had his odd socks; not the regulation white pair of the clinic but a navy blue one and the other a dark grey with orange at the heel and toe. It just all felt more like himself even if he still had to wear the issued lightweight white trainers, they didn't look too out of place.

"Morning Tom," he greeted a fellow patient heading in the same direction.

"That's good," Tom said, eyeing Reid's outfit, "Feels real good when they let you have those doesn't it?" The tall muscular redhead, with neatly trimmed beard shared the moment of satisfaction. His own chosen attire for the day was in sartorial black: black jeans, polo necked jumper, and black socks, which made the white trainers look even more out of place.

"God, you just don't realise how good it feels to wear your old clothes until you've been deprived of them." Spencer replied with a shy smile.

"Yeah, it's the little things that count in life and we rarely have time to realise that," said Tom in his usual philosophical manner. Spencer liked "Tom, CIA" but he also knew that Tom was the one who would leave this place first. Tom had been there 11 weeks, the longest of them, but he seemed the steadiest amongst them and Spencer measured his own progress, or lack of it, against Tom.

They entered the dining room together. Spencer realised that he and Tom were the last of the patients to arrive. He scanned the pleasantly warm and pleasingly decorated room. No one ate alone: nurses always sat with a patient, unless they had a visitor, to make sure they ate and to try and get them to chat. They would talk about the sport from the previous nights' games or just mundane trivia such as the weather or plans for the day. No one ever talked about their problems here, it was a place to unwind from a bad night or a tense day session with your assigned psych. Sometimes in the general lounge, the patients let their guards down to talk about family, a girlfriend's coming visit or letter. Spencer had kept his private life private; he had no girlfriend and only a schizophrenic mother, he didn't expect letters from the team because he knew they had more important matters to attend to.

Spencer Reid had brought with him the get well cards the team had left for him in Georgia. Max had asked if he wanted any letters or cards from them now he was here, but he declined. It may have sounded ungrateful but he just wanted them to get on with the job and not worry about him. Spencer wanted to go back to be with them and any communication would just remind him that he wasn't well enough. Max seemed to understand but he did tell him that Hotch and Gideon regularly asked about him so he was not forgotten. Spencer had merely nodded, thinking that of course the Unit Chief and the Senior Psych would ask because they were concerned about what happened and felt helpless in the present situation.

Spencer spotted Arthur; he had a large pot of coffee and had claimed two large breakfast size cups. He felt human again, someone who was going to let him drink his favourite beverage without the critical looks.

"Ah, feels better doesn't it. Now pour yourself some coffee, I probably wouldn't get your milk to coffee ratio right," said Arthur in a mocking serious tone, but his twinkling brown eyes sparkled with humour.

Spencer didn't need to be told twice, he poured the beautiful black liquid into the plain white cup: it smelt heavenly. Perhaps he'd have it black this morning but he still needed the sugar boost so he reached for the spoon.

Christine, the waitress, came into view. It was a clinic but it still treated the patients as if they were guests dining out when they came to this room.

"Well, gentlemen, would you like to order?" she asked cheerfully, her smile was wide, her manner patient and understanding to the sudden mood swings that patients suddenly found taking over their personalities.

"I just love coming here," Arthur confessed, eagerly reading the menu, "Muffins, Hilary made them?" he enquired.

Christine shook her head, "I don't know, you sure you're not on a diet?" she asked playfully and Spencer sensed that Arthur was well known here.

"My beloved Susan likes me just as I am, rounded and cuddly," Arthur assured.

Christine's eyes sparkled, "Hilary started making a fresh batch as soon as she saw you walk through that door…but you ain't just eating muffins for breakfast," she said like a mother reining in the excesses of a child.

"Spoilsport!" Arthur muttered, "I'll have a bowl of museli with red currants and muffins when they come out of the oven."

"Honestly, Arthur, you and your sweet tooth. Now Spencer, what do you fancy this morning and it's good to see you in your own clothes."

"Thank you," he said shyly and looked at the list, it changed every day in the effort to interest the patients in food again. There were several cereals on offer but he had never really been a great cereal person. "Wholemeal toast and strawberry jam please"

"And you'll want muffins with that too…Hilary makes the best muffins this side of Washington," Arthur added.

Spencer wasn't sure how his appetite would hold up but Christine made the decision.

"I'll bring a plate a muffins, then you can indulge to your hearts content,"

"What flavour will they be?" Spencer asked.

"Why, you got a favourite?" Christine probed.

"No, just curious," he confessed.

"Oh, you never know with Hilary, depends on what fruit she's got in the fridge but Mike and Dean got blueberry and Hank got strawberry," replied the waitress as she left for the kitchen.

"You've known the kitchen staff here for a long time?" Spencer asked as he sipped his coffee.

"Oh I guess it's something like 10 years now. They have a stable staff here so they must like it. Hilary's a Jewish Momma type and a super cook. I hope you have managed to enjoy at least a little of what she has conjured up. She trained as a nutritionist and really is an expert in special medical diets but, best of all, she just enjoys creating good meals."

"And you enjoy eating!"

"Of course I do, I find food a sensuous pleasure," Arthur confessed, "I married a woman who is a good cook as well because I knew it was important in my life."

"But what if your Susan had not been able to cook?"

"Mmm, well that never came up because she could and she likes food as much as I do,"

Christine returned with their order, "The muffins are still in the oven, they're raspberry and blueberry ones,"

"What, no chocolate?" Arthur sounded disappointed.

"It's breakfast, you know she only makes chocolate ones at tea time," admonished Christine.

But Arthur chuckled as he picked up his spoon to dig into the inviting museli. The two men ate in silence. Arthur quietly observed that Spencer ate two pieces of toast with a liberal spread of strawberry jam on each slice. It was good, when he had first arrived he had barely eaten a slice and the staff had to watch him carefully to try and keep his weight up and not slip into anorexia. Stress was a curious condition: some people would comfort eat while others seemed to loose all appetite and the weight just fell away. Of course these patients were under their individual stress, each accompanied by their equally individual anxieties. This was one of the reasons why the manifestations of PTSD had many common behaviour patterns, but learning to cope and come to a point to re-enter normal life was very individual. We all have our own breaking point; some people never discover what theirs is while others reach their limit sooner or later. The triggers are equally individual: some people will cope with a stressful situation and recover with little lasting effect, but others could be haunted for the rest of their lives.

Christine brought a plateful of warm muffins, "Don't you dare eat them all to yourself," Christine warned before turning away to attended to another table.

"Wow! Heaven!" Arthur grinned, "You must try at least one," Arthur pushed the plate of 8 muffins towards Spencer. The young man really wasn't that hungry but they did suddenly smell deliciously inviting, perhaps because they had genuinely just been baked for them. He reached out and took a raspberry one and placed it carefully on his plate before pouring himself another ample cup of black coffee.

"So are you staying all morning?" Spencer asked, watching Arthur devour his second blueberry muffin with a certain leisurely air, savouring every bite.

"Mmm, I mean yeah, Max as assigned me as your psychologist for your time out and your psychiatrist is going to be Don. Do you know him?"

"No, I've never met him. I've had the usual sessions but they were with Andrea and Fred."

"Thought so, they are the more strident ones on the team. Max probably assigned you to them to get a totally different point of view. Don is quiet, I hope you'll like him,"

"Do you?" asked Spencer; it suddenly became important to the young man to try and get some fix on the other professional assigned to his case.

"Yes, I do, in fact Max had narrowed the choice down to 2 and he asked my opinion. I said I could work with both but I thought Don would be better for you." Arthur always thought it best to be totally honest with Spencer. He was a genius and a very good psychologist and Arthur was not going to treat him as an ordinary FBI agent because he clearly was not. The BAU people were an interesting group because they did usually deal with the very worse of humanity and they never really switched off from the job. They couldn't help themselves profiling every one they met. Spencer, just like his colleagues, would know if he was hiding anything and Spencer would not respect him if he lied.

"So what are you intending for this morning?" Spencer probed, he felt a kernel of anxiety begin to twist and grow in his gut.

Arthur observed him, knowing that Spencer was going to fight all the way with the orders given by Max.

"We are going to have a walk round the grounds to get some fresh air and exercise, so I don't put on any more weight," he said reasonably and Spencer eyed the plate with now only 4 remaining muffins. "I'm only 16 pounds overweight and I'm actually quite active with my kids," he confessed defensively.

"Right, and your wife will give you hell if she knew you just ate 3 muffins," replied Spencer as he imagined a woman, similarly rounded, struggling to keep both of their waist lines in their present clothes.

"Look, we are going to have to have a deal here," Spencer wondered where this was leading, "You don't mention my muffin binges and I don't mention your caffeine excesses."

Spencer pretended to seriously weigh up the proposition while he poured another coffee, "Yeah, I think I can live with that." And the two men grinned like guilty children with their hands in the cookie jar.

A necessary trip to the bathroom left the agent feeling a little less anxious as Spencer realised that for the sixth morning he had managed to keep down breakfast. Then the men put on thick coats and left by a side door to walk the grounds. There was quite a chill to the air and it made Reid gasp a little as he breathed in. There had been frost the previous night, but in the warm environment of the wing you were totally sealed against the weather and he was not one to stand with the drapes open staring out at night. He didn't like the dark; some people actually liked the different character that a scene had in the engulfing night, thrilled by the cast of shadows or the special light of the moon or stars. The dark held other memories for him and they were not pleasant.

They walked along a winding path taking them deeper into the ample grounds. The oldest part was an old mansion and various wings had been added over the years: it had been used for this specific purpose since the Second World War. The tended beds with smaller shrubs were being left behind as they headed to a more wooded area. Spencer suddenly stopped; his pulse began to race and he felt his stomach churn.

"No…no I can't," he managed to mumble before turning to one side. He tried to breathe deeply, willing himself to try to remain calm. Spencer failed, his gut tightened and he vomited his breakfast onto the grass border at his feet.

He was shaking and sweating, despite the cold morning he felt on fire.

"It's OK. We'll go back, I didn't want to distress you over a walk," Arthur softly soothed. The small bear like man stood protectively beside his patient, an arm protectively round Spencer's shoulders to re-assure him that he was not alone and that he was safe.

"I'm sorry," Arthur gently said, "I had to find out how bad the association was. The nurses always let the patients take their own route but I had to find out why you avoided the trees."

Spencer nodded; he just couldn't find any energy to speak for a few minutes and they just stood there together. The shaking began to subside but the young man glanced anxiously around, he hoped no one had witnessed his weakness.

"Come on, lets walk back a little, we passed a seat on the way." Arthur coaxed, taking the lead by keeping his arm around him and turning him to face the way back to the clinic.

Once the young agent was walking steadily, he dropped his arm allowing him the dignity of walking unaided, although he watched with concerned eyes. "Oh, yes, Spencer Reid had fooled those nurses who thought he was mending, it was a mere veneer of moving towards normality," thought the wiser Arthur. He now knew that this was going to take some time before they could get this man home, and a lot longer before he was back at work and even then he would be living with PTSD. Max's assessment had been very astute. This time Reid was going to be laid bare in order to get him to the state of being capable of working again. Arthur was determined that Spencer Reid was going to come out of this stronger and far more mature than Gideon's mentoring had left him.

"Look, here's the seat, lets rest for a while. Just breathe deeply, there's no need to talk," the older man assured, mentally already preparing his medical notes about this incident to discuss with Don later that day.

Spencer sank down on the seat, thankful that he did not have to walk any more on his shaky legs. The feelings of nausea had subsided and he closed his eyes and breathed the cold air in through his mouth so he didn't have to taste his own lingering vomit. It was several minutes before he realised that Arthur was talking on his cell and he opened his eyes to look at him.

"Who were you calling?" he asked, wondering what he had missed. Spencer had always liked Arthur but could he trust him now, what was he going to do next with him?

Arthur looked at him calmly seeing anxiety mirrored in Reid's enormous brown eyes. With the weight loss they seemed to dominate his bony features. "I was calling the clinic so they could send a maintenance team to clean up. Don't worry about it, the staff here are use to it. I also asked Gary to bring us some bottled water and a few mints…they'll help with the after taste."

"Thanks…" Spencer managed to mumble and then felt guilty about not trusting Arthur to understand.

"Just close your eyes and let the calmness of the morning help your body to restore itself to its equilibrium," advised Arthur and Spencer obeyed because he had no strength to think beyond the immediate events.

Reid thought he must have drifted off because when he opened his eyes again, Arthur offered him a bottle of still water. He gratefully accepted and drank gently, afraid that gulping it down might make him vomit again. But thankfully this time his stomach seemed more settled and his body temperature had returned to normal. The after taste was soon gone but he was grateful for the peppermints that Arthur encouraged him to suck.

"How long have we been seated here?" the young man asked, he didn't have a watch with him so he felt quite disorientated.

""About half an hour. How you feeling now?"

"Lot better, sorry but the trees …they remind me of the old graveyard. It's the smell of dank, rotting leaves," Spencer felt he should try to explain; he would want his patient to tell him if he was in Arthur's shoes.

Arthur nodded but didn't press the point. "Would you like to go back to the warmth?"

Spencer nodded and rose, amazed that the former weakness had passed and they began to walk back in silence.

They did not return to Spencer's room but Arthur took him to another room on the ground floor where he had never been before. They entered a spacious bright room, looking out on to the expanse of lawn that he could usually see from his bedroom. There were two comfortable looking brown leather couches with brightly coloured throws of a native Indian design; part of his brain began to analyse the pattern to identify the tribe.

"Come on, take the coat off and choose a couch. Would you like a drink of any thing…and no you can't have coffee so don't even think it," the psychologist warned.

Spencer smiled automatically, this was why he liked Arthur; he always seemed to make him feel better with his gentle humour. Reid sat on a couch and looked around the room. There was a small kitchenette and a bathroom to one side. It had cream coloured walls on which were hung some bright abstract art. The large window was framed by quite fancy drapes in a magenta colour and there was a matching magenta carpet. Between the two couches was a light oak coffee table. It was a place for talking, and Spencer was not sure he wanted to talk.

Arthur busied himself in the kitchenette and Reid heard the clatter of crockery and a kettle boiling. He could smell the peppermint tea before Arthur put the mugs on the table and sat down on the opposite couch. Spencer noticed that on the tray was also some plain cookies, and he caught the older man's eye.

"Are you suppose to have those?" he asked trying to reach for the banter they had achieved over breakfast.

"Don't be such a kill joy. I thought you might be feeling a bit empty and I didn't think the chocolate brownies would be good for you, Hilary makes good cookies too," he beamed.

Spencer was quite grateful for the tea and cookies because they did settle his stomach and Arthur didn't seem to be in any hurry to direct the proceedings. At first this was comforting for Spencer, but as the time lingered he began to worry about what Arthur was going to do next.

"What now?" Spencer finally asked when the level of anxiety began to simmer in the background.

"We are going to talk Spencer. We are going to talk more deeply than you have ever talked to anybody in the FBI over the coming weeks, because if you don't then we won't be able to really help you. You are a very capable psychologist yourself and you can hide behind your barricades but it will not help and you know that I'm speaking the truth, don't you?" Arthur replied in a very soft voice and no nonsense manner. All the time he held Spencer transfixed, "This is about mending the real Spencer, the one that has been hurting since childhood." Arthur noted the flash of fear in the patient's eyes but he knew that Tobias had touched memories he'd tried to repress. Max had observed him during the early days in the hospital, as he detoxed. Reid had revealed more than he realised and Max had decided that the mental health team was going to lance the boil of festering memories.

Spencer wrapped his long fingers around the plain white mug. The peppermint smell was both refreshing and soothing, but he felt the urge to run away and hide, he didn't want this intrusion.

He shook his head slowly, "No, I don't want to talk about my childhood, the child was not taken captive," he argued.

"No, the child wasn't but the experience brought back memories long shut away and to function as a psychologist you need to face those. But much more importantly, you also need to face them so you can grow up as a man and enter upon meaningful relationships," Arthur said firmly, no matter how much Spencer might wriggle to get off the hook: he was caught. "You are not going to get better unless you let Don and I help you and Max wants you back in the Bureau because you have promise to be the best profiler we've had in years. Whatever is said in this room over the coming weeks is between Don, you and me. Don and I have to report on your progress but you know patients' notes are private and Max is the only person who can see any agents' notes."

"Yeah," Spencer managed to concede; he acknowledged to himself that Arthur was right. Max was doing all the correct things and was excellent at his job.

"So lets have a chat, something fairly neutral to begin with," Arthur suddenly said, not wanting Spencer to form a plan to scupper his orders. "How long have you lived in your apartment?"

Spencer stared for a moment before replying, "Since I started with the Bureau, once accepted for training I contacted realtors on the accredited list and it was convenient."

"So 5 years, mmm…done any decorating?"

"No,"

"Why not?" Arthur probed.

"Guess it's OK as it is," Spencer replied with a shrug of his shoulders. The young man felt irritated by the question.

"Spencer it's where you live but you have the barest of furnishings."

"It's not that bad, there's only me," Spencer defended himself.

"Look Spencer, we personalise our homes, so what does yours tell me about you…Well lets see, you like books because you have a wall of shelving which is groaning under the weight of them. There is an old leather couch; an old fashioned tiled top coffee table and an old t.v. Bet they all came from garage sales or Goodwill. The desk is a good piece of furniture and the computer the most up to date piece of equipment in the place.

The kitchen is sparse but clean, again an old table and mis-matching chairs and I suspect a second hand fridge. The bedroom again is sparse, older style furnishings but nothing really personal like a picture or photographs. The most personal thing I found was your lute and that was hidden away in the bedroom closet."

Spencer was silent he knew what his colleagues in the BAU would conclude and then they would want to meddle.

"I'm not home very often, you know what our work lives are like," he argued his corner.

"But what does it tell me about the man who lives there?"

"I'm not playing this game," Spencer suddenly said.

"You may not want to play it, Spencer, but somewhere along the way you are going to face those questions." Arthur was not going to let this go so easily, he suddenly changed tack. "Why do you wear shirts, ties and jumpers that belong to the 70's and before?"

"They belonged to my Dad!" Spencer suddenly snapped, surprising himself at the vehemence of his reply, and he glared at Arthur to see how he would react to this honest answer.

Arthur had not expected that reply but suddenly pieces of the Spencer jigsaw began to fall into place, "You miss your Dad so much that you wear his clothes?" he softly asked.

"He left them and Mom never threw them out. She just put them in an old suitcase and I found it in the basement when I cleared the house after she was taken into care. She had destroyed everything thing else that had been Dad's but she obviously just forgot they were there." Spencer tried to explain but it sounded strange even to his own ears.

"You loved your Dad didn't you?" But Arthur already knew the reply; here was the opening to understanding Spencer Reid. He stared with compassion at the pale and emaciated young man opposite. Reid looked like a frightened animal, all wide eyed caught in the headlamps of a car on a dark unlit road.

"He left, he left and it was so hard," But Spencer could not continue, he felt the raw emotions of the day his Dad left surge to the surface and he couldn't stop the sobs that began to take over his body.

End of Chapter 2


	3. Chapter 3

The In – Between Times: Chapter 3 By Helena Fallon 

Arthur leaned back and let the young man cry. The psychologist had to make sure that this emotion was real because this man was very clever at giving you the answers you wanted to hear. He wondered if Spencer had cried when his father had left. Max had made notes that during his detox, Spencer would sometimes mutter, "I'm not weak" usually in reference to his Mom and Dad. Sometimes in his dreams he would call out the phrase and plead for his Mom to stop. The actual words that Max had noted were, "Mom, I'm not Dad, I'm not weak," and "Mom, please stop, I'm scared, Mom please"

Arthur decided to reach out to him. He took the large man-sized tissues out from the shelf under the coffee table and reached across the space with them, but Reid didn't notice his action. Spencer had buried his face in his hands, the slender body was shaking: this was real. Arthur rose and went to sit beside him; he gently rubbed his shoulders and was surprised when the young man turned towards him. Reid couldn't fake that fragile look. The father in Arthur reached for him as he would have done his own child and held him tight. It disturbed Arthur how thin Reid felt beneath his hug and how he shook and could not stop sobbing for several minutes.

The younger man finally drew away and took deep breaths in an attempt to get back in control. Arthur noticed how his hands still trembled but he managed to raggedly say, "I'm sorry,"

"You have absolutely nothing to apologise for, but we needed to get to this point. We have a lot of memories to cover and its not going to be easy but if you want to be a fully functioning member of this world then we have to travel this path."

"Yeah, I know its just…its fucking painful" he replied with anguish but he fought for control again and this time won. He took a few tissues and blew his nose several times.

Meanwhile, Arthur gave him space and went back to his own couch. The psychologist was patient. He thought about Don and his expertise with family trauma and hoped they would get their act together to repair the still raw wounds of childhood. Arthur instinctively knew that they went deeper than Spencer's father leaving and getting the patient to go as far back as he remembered would best be left for Don.

"Did you take the suitcase with you when you went to Princeton?" enquired Arthur who knew that this was where Reid had taken his final doctorate.

"Yeah, by that time I had to have Mom committed…I'd done my first degree at Las Vegas and stayed on to do my first doctorate in Mathematics which I'd finished by the time I was 17. During these years I could get home and check up on Mom, but Harvard offered me a scholarship to take my next doctorate in Physics there. It was good to get away and I felt more at ease with the student life by that time. But the distance meant that I really saw an awful deterioration in Mom when I got home the first Christmas. Her case-worker and doctor weren't too helpful…Mom had always fought those who tried to help her and in the end they had more pressing patients to attend to. I tried to persuade her to go into care, so someone could be there for her, but she became violent and utterly determined to do things her way. I had to wait until I was 18 before I could have her assessed by a good institution. She fought all the way, but the assessment confirmed my fears that she needed 24 hour care and I didn't want to give up my life to do that."

"You were right, Spencer. You shouldn't feel guilty, you had cared for her in the past but you were, and are now, entitled to your own life. There comes a point when sometimes schizophrenics need full time institutional care."

"Yeah, right!" Spencer snapped, "Well you've never had to make that decision for your Mom at 18. She was pleading and then cursing me as the nursing staff took her forcibly to the ambulance. In the end, because she became violent they had to drug her. It gave the neighbours some real life drama instead of their usual inane daytime t.v."

Arthur could imagine the distressing scene. Spencer was not a heartless person, on the contrary, he was highly sensitive. It was his empathy that gave him the potential to be a fine profiler. But for an essentially very private person, having your family problems witnessed by the neighbours would have been excruciatingly embarrassing on top of the undeniable distress to the young man.

"Your Mom had enough money to pay for this care?" Arthur probed, wondering if Spencer actually lived so frugally because he was supplementing his mother's care.

"Dad set up maintenance payments after he left and Mom had inherited some family money… a trust fund from which she could live off the interest but not touch the capital. But Mom was obsessed with being poor once she could no longer hold down her teaching position … If she'd taken her medication she'd have coped with the reduced hours offered her but…"

Spencer shook his head at the memories; his Mom was so exasperating even now.

"And this pays for the sanatorium where she now lives?" Arthur needed to settle his own mind about this matter.

"The Trust money and the money from the air crash…I don't have to spend my own money," Spencer suddenly added realising where Arthur's thinking was going. " My Dad left when I was 10 and I never saw him again, because when I was 12, he died in a plane crash in Japan where he was going for a Maths Conference. The compensation finally came through when I was 17 and this was put into trust to pay for Mom's health bills,"

Arthur sat listening carefully, realising that all thought that of seeking the father out, and coming to some understanding, were now totally out of the question. But Arthur was still worried about this lack of anything personal.

"So your Dad never left you anything?" asked Arthur.

"I was left his life assurance and I used this to pay for my apartment," Spencer explained.

"But nothing more personal?" Arthur continued to press.

"Dad had been teaching at Cambridge University in England and his colleagues packed up his personal effects and sent them home but Mom destroyed these. I was living with a tutor's family on campus because of my age, so I was not there to save anything," the young man explained in more detail.

"So these few clothes are all you have that belonged to your Dad?"

"Oh, and the old watch I usually wear for work. I found that in the suitcase with the clothes, it broke, so Dad stopped wearing it. I had it mended. There were also a few old maths and art books that I found still on the shelves at home that had escaped Mom's purges. After Mom had been placed in the sanatorium, I had to clear the house. I found the old suitcase of clothes in the basement. I packed up the books I wanted to keep and put them into store until I came to Quantico." Spencer's voice sounded oddly detached, unemotional as he related these facts.

Arthur felt the horror of the few details that Spencer had revealed. He had cleared his parent's home when his own Mom had died a few years ago and he'd found it an emotional experience because of all the little things that had been carefully saved as mementoes of his parents' lives. The photographs had been all carefully preserved in albums and labelled, the children's drawings, the school reports and treasured little gifts that Arthur, Rose and Michael had made or given them for their birthdays and the like. Arthur particularly treasured the photograph albums and his own children, nieces and nephews loved to look at them and share the memories that they evoked.

"What's the most treasured thing you have belonging to your father?" the older man gently asked.

"His purple scarf," Spencer replied, and the younger man briefly smiled at the memory.

"Why?" pursued the psychologist hoping to use the good memory to slip further into the world that his patient suppressed.

"Mom hated it! I was surprised when it was returned to me a couple of years ago. Dad had bought it on a trip to London for a seminar at the Royal Academy there. I was 7 and Mom was in one of her better moods. She was teaching well and a book, she'd taken three years to write, had been well received…it's still considered the best analysis of 15th century poetry.

Dad came back with a beautiful shawl he'd found for her and a difficult jigsaw for me, a thousand pieces…based on Escher's work called Night and Day. I have always been attracted to the optical perspectives of Escher's work. Dad and I would spend hours looking at the prints. I still have the Escher art book he owned and I've bought some of my own."

Arthur was fascinated; the Escher prints were very strange with never ending staircases, the lizards that seemed to walk out of the paper…

"I know Escher's work, do you have a particular favourite?"

Spencer looked straight at his psych, as if in a new light; the brown eyes lit up, "I particularly like the drawing hands, they're so finely drawn, there is so much skill in the perspective and yet it is also so gentle, those hands are not threatening…"

Arthur nodded, "I like the drawing of his cat, it is so unexpected compared with his other work,"

Spencer smiled, he had not expected this from Arthur but the cat was so appropriate to him even if he had the appearance of a cuddly bear. Spencer could imagine Arthur's home with a cat.

"So the purple scarf was returned to you only a couple of years ago?" Arthur decided to get back on track.

"Yeah, Dad left it in a colleague's office at Cambridge, and the colleague had put it in a bag in his drawer intending to give it back when he saw him again. Well it got forgotten about and years later, when he was clearing his office on his retirement, found it again. He sent it to me at the Bureau, along with a letter saying that it was a shame I'd not continued with Maths because he'd found my published papers stimulating in his own field."

"That was kind, and a surprise,"

"A pleasant surprise, I always wondered if my Mom had destroyed it but Dad was always loosing scarves and gloves, so to have the purple one really is very special,"

"Why didn't your Mom like it?"

Spencer shrugged, "Don't know…Mom could take an instant dislike to things and the purple scarf was one of them. Mom was very unreasonable…sometimes no matter how hard you tried, nothing seemed to please her."

"Well I'm afraid I didn't bring the scarf but if you would like me to go and get it just say…" the older man offered, pleased with his attempts to keep the tiny crack in Reid's thick fortress wall open.

Spencer looked a little perplexed and was silent thinking over this proposition. Did he really want it here, he had his other things but that scarf could represent his goal towards normality and leaving this place. It was difficult, it felt good to have his old clothes but the scarf went with his own coats not the ones you borrowed to walk in the grounds. Perhaps he shouldn't contaminate his purple scarf with his time in this place.

Arthur watched his patient; he was obviously weighing up the offer. Arthur was also interested in the scarf story. William Reid sounded like he was an interesting man, one that a colleague liked enough to years later send back a scarf and try to make contact with the son. Arthur pondered on this; he wondered just what had been written in that letter that accompanied the scarf, the psychologist thought that there was a lot more to this, but it was something to discuss with Don.

There was a firm knock on the door that broke the mood for both men.

"Come in!" commanded Arthur.

The door immediately opened and Gino, one of the male nurses walked in,

"Sorry to disturb you, but lunch is being served," he announced.

"Already, goodness, Oh yes, we'd better go and see if Hilary has made any of my favourites," said Arthur with a certain glee to his manner. Spencer couldn't stop the smile that crossed his face, but he was also grateful for the break.

It was a rule of the Clinic that meal times were always attended and Reid had observed over the weeks how relieved some of his fellow patients looked when they appeared for lunch or the evening dinner. As he walked into the dining room Reid now understood that relief; it gave people a breathing space. The time had gone quickly but the morning had been draining and he felt tired.

The two men sat at the same table they had occupied for breakfast. Spencer ordered cod in a cheese sauce and a selection of steamed vegetables, he thought his stomach might keep that down. Arthur had ordered the chicken and mushroom pie with a similar vegetable selection but, he confessed gleefully, that he really was looking forward to the good old-fashioned apple pie and ice cream for the dessert.

They ate in silence and Arthur did not try to force a conversation, thinking that the emotional ride Reid had experienced that morning might make him clam up completely if he pressed for too much all at once.

"Coffee?" Arthur asked his silent introspective patient at the end of the meal.

"Please," the young man replied. But Arthur noted that his manner was becoming more guarded and he would have to be very careful or his patient would close the little door that had been opened that morning.

Coffee was ordered and Spencer savoured the two cups of coffee, which were smaller than the breakfast ones. But he began to worry about what Arthur had planned for the afternoon session.

"How you feeling?" asked Arthur gently as Spencer seemed content to peer out of the window and avoid personal interaction.

Spencer took a moment to compose an answer, "OK, I suppose, I'm not use to talking about my family,"

Arthur nodded, "Come on, lets go for a gentle stroll, its warmed up now…you can choose the route,"

The two men joined others strolling in the grounds. Spencer deliberately stayed away from the wooded areas, but the lawns and low shrubs were intersected with winding paths that took the walker to other views of the original old house and the extensive grounds had many interesting areas. They found themselves in the herb garden and sat down to enjoy the late winter sunlight.

"Did you want to go with your Dad?" Arthur suddenly asked.

"Yeah. Mom asked him to take me…it was like she didn't want me and my Dad didn't reply…Well, I obviously didn't fit into his plans to go and teach abroad."

"Did you have any inkling that things were coming to a separation?" Arthur asked gently, knowing that often children were very aware of marital problems and many expected the divorces that followed.

Spencer snorted softly, "My parents were always arguing, the rarity was when they didn't but when Dad started to pack his suitcases, and I knew it wasn't for a conference…It was scary. I didn't want to be left alone with Mom. Having Dad at home made things bearable. But he just told me to go to my room because he didn't want to talk in front of me. My Mom said that I wasn't a child…but I was, Dad understood that I was still a child but a genius who could understand on an intellectual level but not an emotional one. I was just in the way…Mom hadn't wanted me."

"Why do you think that?"

"Sometimes in their arguments, she would say that she was a fool to have let him persuade her to keep me …That she should have followed her instinct and had an abortion…Then it would have saved all the heartache I was going to suffer for being different from the other kids. Dad would always shout back that it was a joint decision to have me and not to blame him or me for the fact that she was a hopeless mother."

Arthur felt a cold anger deep inside at this revelation because Spencer Reid seemed to be one of the gentlest young men he'd met. Furthermore, although a genius, he was not arrogant like some people with exceptional intellect.

"Do you think your Mom was maternal?"

"Well as a child I only really knew Mom and I was fairly isolated because of my intelligence and that got worse as I got older. But in the early years…you know before I was 8 and before Mom's mental health began to scare the neighbours, I did play a bit with the local children and their Moms seemed very different to mine. Even the ones that worked had more interest in their children. Mom was very clever and one of the youngest professors in her field, she really didn't have a clue about being a Mom. You know she couldn't cook; it was Dad who cooked and if he was away we just had T.V. dinners from the supermarket. I think they were both unsuited to be parents, I was in the way of their careers."

"There may be some truth in that Spencer. But I'm glad you were born because many people have benefited from you being at the BAU and you are well liked by people, even if they have never said it to your face."

Spencer turned to face the older man but the eyes spoke volumes about his scepticism in Arthur's statement.

"It's true Spencer: your colleagues, not just the team, but the other profilers in the BAU and the clerical staff, all have positive feelings towards you. Yes, you're the shy enigma amongst them, but you don't go out of your way to annoy or belittle them and the women particularly like the fact that you're a gentleman. Look, the Bureau wouldn't have send you here unless they want you back. That's not just because of your intellect, you are a member of a team and it misses you," said Arthur, trying to reassure the young man who he now realised had self esteem issues that went back to his parents and not just school bullying.

Arthur looked at his patient snugly wrapped in the thickest coat they could find because he was so thin. His long legs were stretched out in front of him as he leaned back into the wooden seat; the gloved hands were in the coat pockets. Spencer's pale, thin face with sunken cheeks and deeply shadowed eyes looked straight ahead, revealing no emotion on the surface but Arthur suspected the day had been very unsettling.

"How do you feel our sessions have gone today, Spencer?" the older psychologist asked in a conversational manner.

Reid did not answer immediately but seemed to be weighing up his words. "It's the first time I've really talked in any real depth about my parents. Gideon would ask and I would answer tersely, you know, just enough to let him know I was OK with my past because you can't go back and put it right,"

"No you can't but you can talk about it and try and not let the mistakes others made with their lives destroy yours…You're too special a person Spencer, and your parents were hurting so much in their own relationship to realise just what they were doing to you."

Reid didn't reply, he was lost in the memories of the two totally selfish people who were his parents; too many times as a child he'd wished he'd not been born.

"Come on time to go back and for you to get some rest, it's been an emotionally charged day."

Reid was grateful to be off the hook. He didn't know if he could defend himself from Arthur's probing like he could with Gideon. Gideon had taken him under his wing but then Spencer had realised that his mentor was estranged from his own son. Reid understood that for a little while Gideon had received some solace from having Spencer there as a substitute son. Then there was the Boston incident and Gideon had lost his team: he changed. When he returned to fieldwork Gideon would throw himself into cases, but he was afraid to get too close to the team because of the devastation caused by loosing his friend and the rest of his colleagues. Reid was fond of his mentor, but he also knew that Arthur was dangerous because he saw straight through him at that moment…he was weak. Henkel had made him vulnerable to the world after all the years he had spent building up his defences.

Arthur had left when they got back to the wing. Reid had gone to his room and sank on his bed exhausted by the probing. Julian had come to wake him for dinner and had talked inanely about the ice hockey on that night. Reid didn't listen, he just wanted to be left alone.

Meanwhile, back in Quantico, three men sat in an office discussing the case of a young genius who they needed to take on an emotional journey in order for him to fore fill his intellectual promise.

End of chapter 3


	4. Chapter 4

The In – Between Times: Chapter 4 

By Helena Fallon

Spencer Reid had had a poor night's sleep. The duty nurse had woken him from his disturbed dreams because he had been crying out. He had not been in the terrifyingly distorted world of Tobias Henkel, but back in the childhood memories reawakened by Arthur's probing. Larry had taken him to the kitchen at 2 a.m. to make hot chocolate and to chat. Reid did not want to talk but he did admit that his first session with Arthur had broken into a vault of issues he would have preferred had have been kept safely locked away.

However, the psychologist in the young man knew that Arthur was asking all the right questions and he respected him enormously for the way that this man treated him. Reid knew that he had been living with his memories rather precariously for years. As a psychologist, he had read all the literature, and his last doctorate had contributed to the body of knowledge about the criminally insane, but when it came to your own personal emotional wellbeing you could not be totally objective. Reid had been using his vast intellect to avoid dealing with his inner emotional problems for years, in fact since the rejection by his peer group because he was too clever for them to relate to. Reid, the psychologist, had deceived himself that this was his norm and the pattern continued because he functioned quite well in the BAU until he met his personal breaking point.

Spencer had eaten barely half a slice of toast and honey for breakfast and was only allowed one small cup of coffee by Gino. The lack of sleep made him uncommunicative to any attempts to make polite conversation. He knew that it would be noted but he just wanted to be left alone, he was tired and hurting on an invisible level. After he had returned to his room, he fell asleep on his bed.

Don had found him curled up in a foetal position fast asleep about half an hour after breakfast had ended. Larry had left notes about his patient's disturbed night. This pleased Don because it was obvious that Arthur had reached the man on a level that had been previously carefully guarded. However, as he looked at the patient now, he saw his youth and vulnerability and felt an urge to cover him with a blanket to hide the revealing position his body had taken.

Don sat down in the chair beside the window and took out a file from his briefcase. This contained in depth reports about Diana and William Reid; they had been ordered to assess the young man's suitability for the FBI. He was an exception and accepted at 21, a very young age to receive a place on the profiling course. Reid was a genius and multi-talented but his background still had to be investigated. The Bureau contained many highly qualified people, but the BAU rarely took people under 30 and then they had to have a track record of fieldwork to show their suitability for the department. Jason Gideon had a lot to answer for but Reid had proved his worth on many occasions and was beginning to be an effective lecturer. He was a good team player and never belittled his colleagues despite the fact that he was obviously intellectually their superior. It was rather touching that the team looked upon him as the kid to be nurtured which was why it had devastated them when he was kidnapped and tortured.

He heard the man let out a little moan and stretch out his curled limbs. Don stopped and observed him, thinking how catlike he seemed and watched as the eyes blinked open and finally focused on him by the window. Don thought how large and beautiful those eyes were and was grateful that his two unmarried daughters were away at college knowing that they would make a beeline for this wounded sensitive. The psychiatrist waited, as he saw puzzlement flash in the eyes and then the forming of a question for his silent visitor.

"Who are you?" he managed to ask, his voice still full of sleep. The brown eyes coming more alive and inquisitive with every second.

"I'm Don, Max assigned me to work alongside Arthur. Arthur thought you'd had enough of him yesterday so it's my turn now," Don replied in a soft melodious voice.

Spencer stared at his next inquisitor. He knew Don by reputation only and he had not expected the quiet sun-tanned man with blond hair, now greying, and soft baby blue eyes. He was a handsome, athletic looking man even if he was at a guess in his middle 50's. Don was dressed in a plain pale blue shirt, a blue and grey fine striped tie and mid grey slacks with black leather slip on shoes. His darker grey blazer type jacket was hanging across the back of the chair he was siting on.

"I didn't want to wake you so I've been reading over some material Max gave me that may be useful. How are you feeling?"

"Rough night," Spencer said tersely, and watched the new man's reaction to the reply. He saw that Don's open face showed concern in the eyes and the jaw line muscles flinched a tiny bit at Reid's tone.

"That's quite understandable as you and Arthur touched upon memories that you prefer to keep hidden. Would you like to go to another room to talk and get a drink? It's not a good idea to conduct session's in the patient's rooms because you need a definite space where you know you're going to be free from probing questions."

Spencer knew all this, but he noted Don's professional approach and he needed some coffee to make him more alert. He felt sluggish and that would give this new man the upper hand in any session they had.

"I really need some coffee, I've only slept a few hours and I'm not feeling too good at the moment," the young man confessed.

"That's fine. I've heard about your caffeine addiction, its one that is shared by many agents," replied Don, who put the file back in the briefcase as Spencer rose from the bed.

Don left his jacket in Spencer's room. They walked in silence to the room where Arthur and the patient had spent the previous morning.

"Well, you take a seat while I make us some coffee...Like some cookies?

"Yeah, I'll just go to the bathroom," explained Spencer as he escaped for a few minutes. As he washed his hands, he stared at his pale face and the dark shadows under his eyes. 'Jeez I looked a mess,' he thought to himself. His stomach rumbled and he remembered how little he had eaten at breakfast. When Spencer emerged, he could smell coffee percolating and a plate of chocolate muffins and plain cookies were on the coffee table, along with two smaller plates for their use.

"Help yourself and take your time to get into the frame of mind for a chat," the tall Don advised, as he busied himself pouring milk into a jug and choosing two large white mugs. "Is there anything you'd like to ask me about myself because we've never met before?"

Spencer was taken aback by this offer, psychiatrists didn't usually reveal personal details and he wondered why this man was taking this approach. He picked up a muffin and began to think as he ate it. Reid was going to find it hard to second-guess this Don.

"Good, best not to have coffee on an empty stomach not that you agents take any notice," observed Don as he brought the mugs of coffee to the table and turned back to the kitchenette to get the bowl of sugar.

Spencer was grateful for being allowed his favourite drink. Don sat down with a smile that light up his gentle features. There was something totally unthreatening about this older man and there was a calm air about him that soothed Spencer's growing apprehension.

"Do you have any questions?" he asked after taking several sips of his coffee.

"It's a most unusual approach. The manuals all say that that a certain professional distance should be kept with a patient?" Spencer countered.

"Yes they do, but you're no ordinary patient and Gideon hasn't managed to keep a professional distance from his prize protégé," replied Don, capturing the younger man with the steadiness of his blue eyes.

"You don't approve of Gideon's mentoring of me?"

"I didn't say that," Don gently replied, noting the patient's agitation at the mention of his mentor, "I should perhaps have chosen better words. What I meant to say, is that you're a very talented psychologist yourself so getting you to be honest with any of the mental health team is always a …problem…or perhaps, battle, would be a better word."

Spencer felt his world shift a little. Reid had only just met Don and he'd taken the upper hand. Spencer wanted to go back to his room. He wasn't ready for another onslaught so quickly after Arthur's sessions but he was aware that this was the strategy. Reid knew that Arthur meant what he had said the previous morning: this time they were going to get to the bottom of his problems while they had the chance.

"The aftermath of the Henkel case has left you vulnerable, but out of this is the opportunity to give you the chance to really heal wounds that were inflicted many years ago and were not your fault. You want to be the best profiler, then this is how you grow up and face the demons of your past… You'll come out of this stronger and more able to help others, both your colleagues and victims." Don quietly asserted.

Spencer wanted to believe him but he didn't know if he was strong enough at the moment to do what Max's people wanted of him.

Don sat watching the indecision in the young man's manner, he decided to try again.

"I meant the offer, you can ask me anything you like, you're a profiler you'll soon begin to read me and will know if I'm lying. I thought perhaps, because we have to touch upon personal matters, that knowing something about me would help you to open up. I, of course, expect you to keep to yourself anything I might reveal to you of a personal nature."

It was highly unusual and Spencer appreciated the extra mile this man was willing to take to make him feel comfortable about these sessions.

"Why do you think Max choose you to interview me?"

"Probably because I've an unhappy background, but I've managed to take control of my life and make something of it and I've not repeated my parents mistakes," the man replied with an unexpected honesty and Spencer couldn't help but feel intrigued.

"So what was unhappy about your childhood?"

"I'm an only child, both my parents were frequently unfaithful to each other. My Mom taunted my Dad with the possibility that I was not his son…Actually, I look like him, but you can imagine the damage that can do to a child when you hear it a few times. I was sent off to boarding school when I was 9 and hated it. I eventually got use to not even going home for some of the holidays because the parents were having too much fun to have their son spoiling their somewhat amoral lives. Both ended up alcoholics and died before I actually married. I've a happy marriage with 3 grownup children and I'm a grandfather. I'm often considered good at helping people with traumatic family backgrounds. I was reading about yours while you were sleeping."

"What do you think of my family?"

"Both your parents were only children, born to quite old parents and both were spoilt and privately educated at excellent schools. Both were well known in their fields of knowledge and your Mother developed schizophrenia soon after of her graduation. But she responded very well to the medication and her doctorate was completed without another episode. When you were 2, she began to show symptoms again but this time she became more difficult to treat as a patient. She often refused to co-operate with the medical teams assigned to help her. Some of the difficult temperament was indicated in her childhood; she was described in school reports as being very intelligent, highly strung and at times extremely wilful when it came to rules of any kind. She was quite a radical voice at Berkeley and mixed with the 'Hippie set' basically, drugs, sex and whatever music was in at the time…by all accounts she was quite wild." Don stopped his summary as he noticed the wide-eyed reaction of the young man,

"You didn't know just how wild your Mom's youth was?" he asked, but he knew the answer already. He watched with compassion as Spencer shook his head.

"How bad were the drugs?" Spencer asked in a small voice.

"Berkeley was notorious in those years. The file makes it clear that she tried everything and that means the student's own mixes." Don hoped that Spencer's mind was alert enough to make the valuable connection.

"So the schizophrenia could be a consequence of the drug scene at Berkeley?" asked Spencer, who was unable to keep the hope out of his voice.

"There is no other family history of mental disease on either side. However, if your maternal grandmother had been infected with an infectious disease while pregnant, then this could have made your mother susceptible. Add to that predisposition, the dangerous mixes of drugs she could have experimented with …well, it could be to a certain degree self-inflicted," said Don, seeing the young man opposite look at him in a mixture of relief and pleading.

"If only I could be sure?" the young man whispered as if speaking to himself. However, the psychiatrist was not deaf to the anguish contained in his quiet response.

"No one can be 100 per cent sure, Spencer, but there's only around a 10 per cent genetic disposition and you've not shown any manifestation of early symptoms. But we don't know about your grandmother's health when pregnant, and this research hasn't been thoroughly tested, so there are a lot of perhaps and maybes,"

"I know the statistics!" the young man snapped, "You've no idea what it's like to live under that suffocating invisible weight every day, especially when I was left alone with her."

"Tell me," Don gently invited.

Spencer wondered for a moment if he had heard the words. Usually Spencer kept this world carefully hidden; even the fact that his Mom was a schizophrenic had been kept very quiet. It had been the Randall case that had brought it out into the open but his colleagues had not commented on it. It was obviously known by Gideon and Hotchner but such private details would not normally be spoken about openly amongst the team.

Don observed him; fascinated by the struggle the young agent was experiencing. Gideon wrote very little on Reid's personal field assessments and team interactions that inferred problems from childhood. Gideon had mentioned the issues of childhood bullying and how he and Hotch were aware of Agent Morgan sometimes requiring a quiet word, concerning his interactions with the younger agent. However, there was a notable absence of the mention of his mentally sick mother and those reading the file might assume that all was normal. Gideon had noted that the father had left when he was 10 and that he missed the male role model in his life, but that the genius had coped by burying himself in his studies. It had left him socially awkward with his peers but that this was improving since joining the BAU.

Spencer finally shook himself out of the memories and found Don quietly sitting opposite, patiently waiting for a reply.

"I really would like to know what life was like with your Mom," Don began again.

"What before or after Dad left?"

"What's your earliest memory of your Mom?" the older man directed in his soothing voice that seemed to wrap an invisible comfort blanket around the emaciated man before him.

"I was three…it was too hot to play outside and I had crawled under the dining room table with a book with pictures of castles and knights. But I couldn't read it; the words didn't make any sense to me. I went to Mom who was typing at the computer, at the far end of the room. I just stood there and waited to be noticed…

"What have you got there Spencer? Oh, now that's one of Mommy's books for work," said Diana stopping to give her son her full attention.

"What's it say…I can't read the words" the boy said pushing the book onto his Mom's lap.

The beautiful fair-haired woman smiled, " Of course you can't read it… it's written in Latin," she stared at her son's inquisitive eyes, "Shall I read it to you?"

The child's face lit up, and the woman began to speak in a strange but enchanting language, the child knew he had to find out what it all meant…

"So you learnt Latin?" asked Don, amazed at the memory; children rarely remembered much in detail before their 4th year and then only a flash of an event. Usually, a child might remember bits of a traumatic event in haunted dreams which often children didn't have enough language to explain in any detail.

"Yeah, Mom explained and I remembered. It's such an enchanting language to me even now. Mom liked early church music, so the house was often filled with unaccompanied voices singing early Latin masses…Dufay, Hildegard …

Mom would read me Latin texts, all the classics. She still likes reading aloud although of course she's trapped in her world of thinking that she's lecturing her students."

"When did you notice something was wrong with your Mom?"

"She could be kind and attentive if her college work was prepared. But if I disturbed her, she would shout at me to go away and play so I watched for the right moment to interrupt her if I had a question…Sometimes, I was frightened because she would suddenly become distant and start talking to someone I couldn't see. This was usually about her need to concentrate and for the need for Bea, as she called the voice, to go away. Then there were the times she seemed to be arguing with Bea and Dante; it rarely made sense, just disjointed sentences. If I asked who she was talking to she'd become agitated and point across the room and say, "Stupid child, can't you see them!"

It was all rather weird, as children you could pretend you had an invisible friend but grown ups were not supposed to do that. I always knew that my invisible friend wasn't real but I began to realise that these people were real to mum. I didn't understand the significance until years later, when I was 9, and the doctor and Dad started using the term, schizophrenia."

"Did your Mom ever play games with you?" asked Don, intrigued by this insight into the childhood world of a genius.

"No, she usually read to me and she liked to sing but I never played board games with her. Dad taught me to play checkers, chess and card games. When I went to the University, I stayed with Dr. Bishop and his wife and he taught me how to play the oriental game of go,"

"Did your Mom ever take you to interesting places like museums or to the cinema?"

"No, she was always too busy with her work, or too tired. Dad took me places and we told her about them when we came home." Spencer looked down at his hands, realising just how revealing this had all been about his relationship with his mother. He had never talked in any depth about his life at home and the man opposite had obviously worked it out for himself. However, Spencer didn't want to say out loud what all these revelations pointed to: his mother didn't love him like a normal Mom."

"Diana Reid was a very selfish woman and quite honestly didn't deserve to be a mother. She certainly didn't appreciate the joys of seeing the world through a child's eyes, which is one of the compensations of being a parent… Being a parent is the most demanding job in the world, but its those little things that give you the memories of nurturing another human being and these are precious and priceless." Don stated, he was appalled by the image he had of the brilliant academic who really should never have been a mother.

"Well, it's all past now and I learnt not to annoy her for an easy life. At least I could read from a very early age…you know I actually can't remember learning how to read?" the young man suddenly said and stopped to think about this statement.

After a few minutes of silence, Don asked another question, "When do you think you learnt to read, I mean around what age?"

"Well, I'm not sure. I remember that I read my birthday cards when I was 3 and the book of nursery rhymes that was one of my presents…I kept asking my Dad what some of the words meant because they were old fashioned and I'd never heard them. I remember reading aloud 'Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water'. I asked Dad what a pail was and why didn't they get water from the faucet." Spencer smiled to himself at the memory.

"Your Dad was very central to your world then, even from an early age?" probed Don, pleased that he had got Reid talking about this time.

"Yeah, Dad did the cooking and I learnt along side him, just by watching at first but later we did things together. It was fortunate that I had learnt the skill because I did the cooking when he left because Mom had no idea and she was in her own little world by then. I went shopping for food with Dad too, so it was quite easy to carry on once he was gone from our lives."

"I can see why you have many happy memories of your Dad but was there anything that you didn't like about him?" Don pressed, hoping to make the most of this rather revealing time with the patient.

"His going away," Spencer shot back and then added, "He went to several conferences every year. He always bought me something interesting back but he wasn't there and I missed him."

Don nodded, listening to the childlike simplicity of the answer, but it also contained all the loneliness of an exceptional child who didn't fit into the usual world of childhood.

"So you had to cook and look after your Mom…was she still able to work?"

"She was working, but her teaching was reduced to mornings when I was 2, I guess that was after the second psychotic episode. She was usually able to keep that timetable if she took her medication…But you know how it is with schizophrenics, they feel better so they stop taking the medication…there was no reasoning with her. Mom and Dad had vicious rows about her refusing to co-operate with those who were trying to help her. She actually managed to write a brilliant book which was published when I was 7…I think I've already mentioned that to Arthur." He looked to Don for confirmation. The older man nodded, encouraging him to continue. Don didn't mind repetition because what was important was the fact that this man was finally talking.

"The work actually stopped when I was 11. It became very difficult then, but she really went down hill after Dad left and lost all hold on reality, with no sense of time,"

"Let's go back to your Dad," said Don, trying to re-direct Spencer once more on to the other individual who had emotionally scarred him. "What else didn't you like about him?"

"If his study door was closed then I wasn't ever to disturb him."

"Why, what happened?" Don gently asked.

"It meant that Dad had some very important work to finish, you know, like a deadline for an academic journal. Sometimes, he wanted to be on his own after a shouting match with Mom. Then he would shut himself away and play his violin. Dad was a good a amateur violinist, he taught me to play but…" the young man stopped abruptly, a memory surfaced and Don watched as he saw a guarded mask descend across the patient's features and he fell silent.

Don observed and waited hoping that Reid would resolve the inner turmoil that the memories had caused and then share them with him. However, the psychiatrist was to be disappointed, as Don sensed him retreating into his shell and any intervention was spoilt by the knock on the door.

"Come," Don crisply commanded.

"Lunch time, Dr. Findall" said Gino apologetically, picking up the atmosphere of the consulting room.

"Thank you, I'm sure that Spencer needs a break,"

Spencer looked up and met Don's inquisitive blue eyes. Don thought that the brown eyes looked overwhelmingly sad and vulnerable. Spencer was praying that Don would call it a day and let him have a rest because he felt exhausted from the lack of sleep and the effort of recalling memories, long buried out of the necessity to function in the world.

"Come on, you look tired, Spencer," Don said, worried that if he pushed him too much on their first meeting, he would deliberately refuse to be so open in future.

"Yeah, it's been a hell of a morning, especially on top of yesterday," confessed Spencer, who decided to be truthful and not hide behind a bravado of 'I'm coping, I always have' image. The truth was that he wasn't coping too well and he hadn't been since the kidnap; Henkel had torn into his carefully constructed world where he had been gaining in self-confidence and enjoying being part of a team. The people Max had appointed were taking advantage of his vulnerable state and were laying him bare in these sessions when he didn't even have the strength to fight and protect his innermost privacy.

"Would you rather call it a day?" Don gently asked, as they walked towards the dining room.

"Please," the voice quietly replied, but it contained a hint of pleading in its tone.

Don nodded, and once they got to the dining room, motioned Gino to join them as they walked through the door.

"Spencer has worked very hard this morning, he needs to rest. Perhaps you will share a table together as I have to get back to Quantico."

"Of course. Let's go and sit over by the small window," Gino said smoothly taking over, "Hilary has cooked one of your favourites…vegetable lasagne,"

Spencer moved without acknowledging the transfer of care. He didn't want to chat to Gino but he knew that his tiredness would tune out his chatter without any conscious effort.

After lunch, Spencer Reid had returned to his room and fell asleep for 5 hours, only being woken to attend dinner. The staff and patients noticed that the normally quiet young man was even more so. Gino logged that he'd not spoken to him over lunch or dinner and wanted the night staff to keep an eye on him.

Don drove back to Quantico mulling over all that Spencer Reid had revealed that morning. There was quite a lot to tell Max and Arthur. They knew that they were dealing with a difficult childhood, but the emotional deprivation was far worse than he thought Max had imagined. As Don turned into the massive complex at Quantico, he wondered what great significance the violin had in his early life. It was not mentioned on Reid's application form under "hobbies and other interests" but the memory was obviously distressing for him. 'Well,' Don thought to himself, as he parked in his reserved space, 'there was always tomorrow'.

End of Chapter 4


	5. Chapter 5

The In-Between Times: Chapter 5 By Helena Fallon Author's Note: I have just received my DVDs of the second series and finally watched the 'Revelations' episode .I have been reliant upon transcripts for my knowledge of the second season until now so my apologies for inaccuracies with any names or details in my stories. 

He was shivering, not from the cold but from fear. He could hear his heart pounding and his hearing was super-sensitive at that moment. He wanted to find a safe place but it was black…pitch black a novelist would have written, but this wasn't a story it was for real and he was so scared that he was frightened to move in case he made the situation worse. Spencer felt the darkness getting thicker, heavier, pressing in on him. He whimpered, curling in on himself against this encroaching entity that was determined to devour him…he couldn't breathe it was hard to make his lungs inhale, the blackness was filling every part of him….

"Spencer! Spencer!" the male voice threw him a lifeline; the blackness was going to engulf him.

"Jeez Spencer! Wake up!" the voice broke through the smothering blackness again, he tried to reach up to the voice.

There was another sound, a high pitched buzzer, but the blackness was dragging him away from the voice and buzzer sound.

"Spencer!" a different voice shouted at him, strong hands where holding his upper arms…the pain as they gripped his lean arms was more demanding than his gasping to breathe in the suffocating blackness…

"Spencer!" and his body felt as if it was being shook alive from the life draining blackness…He opened his eyes, but they didn't like the brightness and he squeezed them shut again but his brain ordered them to open. He squinted at the two males either side of him. Spencer didn't know where he was for a few moments as his brain sluggishly slipped into gear.

"Breathe deeply, that's it. You were having quite a night terror there, Spencer. Sean got worried because he couldn't shake you out of it and hit the emergency button on his bleeper." said the non-uniformed male. Spencer blinked at him trying to understand what he had just said. He looked at the nurse; it was not Larry but the younger, Sean. Spencer reasoned that Sean had panicked when he couldn't wake him up from the bad nightmare.

"Sean, can you leave us for a while," the man said, not taking his eyes off Spencer.

"Sorry…who are you?" fumbled Spencer, trying to get a hold on reality again.

"Dr. George Cordle, the resident psychiatrist," the middle aged African-American said, "Usually I answer to Dr. George. How do you feel…Sean was quite unsettled because you were so unreachable."

"Goes with the territory at the moment," said Spencer, trying to shrug off this fresh scrutiny.

"What was it about?" George pressed, in a manner that suggested that he was not going to be fobbed off like the nurses had been in the past.

"Just an old nightmare…nothing to do with my kidnap," replied Spencer, hoping that it would satisfy. Spencer looked down at his bedclothes that were dishevelled, to avoid the searching dark eyes that were trying to read him.

"I think you ought to get up and sit in the chair while I remake the bed, or you can come with me to the kitchen and we can send Sean to make it…How about some hot chocolate?" he coaxed.

Spencer wanted a break from this room and didn't want to talk here, or even in the kitchen for that matter. But perhaps the break away to another part of the wing would help to re-settle him. He began to untangle his long legs from the sheets, "Yeah, sounds good,"

He slipped on the white trainers to keep his feet warm and went silently to the kitchen along the softly lit corridors.

Dr. George didn't make any attempt at conversation until he'd made them both large mugs of rich hot chocolate. Reid watched him; this man was new to him. He looked to be in his late forties, the tightly curled hair was fast turning a silver grey that seemed to suit his lined face and gave an even greater air of gravitas. He was neatly dressed in pale blue shirt and navy slacks but no tie. However, he had a natural air of authority about him and Reid suspected a military background by the way he held himself.

"Well now, so it's an old nightmare, how old?

Spencer cursed in his mind; he didn't want to talk about it.

"Spencer, it's a re-occurring nightmare, so you know as well as I that's its significant and I wouldn't be doing my job properly if I didn't ask the questions."

"Yeah, I know…I just don't want to talk about it at the moment," he replied wearily, the lack of sleep alongside the emotional journey that he was taking with Arthur and Don was beginning to take it toll.

"Well, how the hell do you think you 're going to get out of here if you keep holding onto the poison of emotional memories when you have a fine group of people trying to help you," the psychiatrist asked the reticent patient.

"Because I'm not ready to share," snapped the young man.

George breathed deeply, thinking that Don and Arthur had their hands full with this one. "I'll have to log your refusal, but I was hoping that by now you would feel relaxed enough with us to realise that we only want the best outcome for all the patients here."

"I'm not criticising you or your staff," Spencer replied sulkily, "I'm just not in the mood for talking. I've had a couple of tiring days with Arthur and Don and I'm the personally reticent sort so its not been easy for me…I just don't want the Clinic staff probing away at me aswell." Spencer was not lying, but he hoped this man would respect the need to separate the clinic experiences from the FBI mental health team.

George drank his hot chocolate slowly while observing this interesting patient. He was quite a challenge and he'd certainly laid down boundaries that he didn't want crossed. George had been warned about his intelligence and could see how this was in fact double edged for this patient: being a psychologist himself meant that he knew what was happening to him on all levels. Reid could analyse his own reactions as a patient and also assess the very approaches that Arthur and Don were using with him.

"Have you worked here long?" Reid suddenly asked breaking into George's thoughts.

"Almost 7 years," George replied, intrigued by the question when he thought the patient had decided to shut him out.

"So you enjoy the work," Spencer asked in a conversational tone and George realised how clever the man was at taking control of the situation.

"Yes, it's very intense at times, but the privacy of this establishment benefits all who come here and those that work in its excellent facilities."

"My Mom is a schizophrenic and has been in a private sanatorium for 8 years now. It's the best in Nevada and I know they care for her very well, but she hates it there."

George listened intently, this was the first time that Spencer had spoken of family and this was an intensely personal piece of information.

"Do you get to visit her often?" asked George gently, not knowing where this was leading.

"No, I use to write every day but then this all happened. I just can't get myself in the frame of mind to write about what has really happened," he confessed in a very quiet voice and the big soulful eyes sought understanding from the psychiatrist.

"Of course you can't write about that or about being here. Did you write about your cases?"

"No, not really. I'd tell her about where the team had been working but I never told her about the cases…They're just too awful…we try to switch off as soon as we've wound up a case. Sometimes we don't succeed in finding the answers, but then there's always the next case that demands our attention and the unsolved ones get pushed back. I told her about the team I work with, but then that caused a problem when the few bits of information were acted upon and put the team in danger. Elle got shot and she lost confidence in herself and the unit."

George felt he was being told something significant and wished he'd had his pocket recorder. He hoped he'd be able to remember this when he got back to his office in order to write up a report sheet.

"Does the sanatorium know why you've stopped writing for the moment?" asked George with compassion. He was sure he was being told this because the young patient felt guilty about his lack of contact with his mother.

"Yeah, Gideon, you know the senior psych on the team, told them when I was in hospital in Georgia and they said that they'd give my Mom some of the previous letters; she probably wouldn't remember having read them before. I do try and visit, usually near her birthday, but every year it gets harder as she seems further and further in the grips of the disease. They do try her on new medications to see if they help, but she'll never be able to live in the community like some patients because she even fights the sanatorium staff over taking her medication. In the end, I think the fragile hold on reality she has will slip away too," said the young man softly, but the sadness in his voice hung in the air.

"Have you ever thought about moving her to Virginia?" asked George, thinking that this would make visiting easier.

"Yeah, but she's settled in the warmth of Nevada now and the medical staff know her very well. I did discuss it with them when I was given the BAU place and I also investigated sanatoriums in the area. But even they said that my Mom was probably best where she was because schizophrenics like consistency."

"But you still feel guilty about not seeing her?" George pressed.

"Yes and no…it's difficult. I like my work and its very demanding because you get called out at a moment's notice so I was using my annual leave to visit. But…"

George waited wondering what Don had stirred up the previous morning. The patient was not looking at him but seemed to be totally lost in thought, with a far away look upon his hauntingly thin and pale features. He was striking in his looks: not conventionally handsome, but the huge soft brown eyes were very sensitive and the lips were full and indicated a softness and sensuality. The man's hair was a very attractive feature; too long for the FBI at that moment, but it was tantalisingly wavy and thick with a silken sheen. He was far too thin and the long neck made him look slightly out of proportion to be handsome in a more classical sense. The patient was attractive and George wondered how many hearts he had broken by not even being aware that women noticed him. George remembered over hearing the domestic staff discussing the gentle Spencer and their universal need to mother him.

Suddenly, Spencer snapped out of his deep thoughts and focused once more on the resident psychiatrist.

"Sorry, where were we?"

"You'd been telling me about how you try to visit your Mom but your work doesn't help matters," George replied, not actually pressing too hard on the real question he'd like answered.

"I really don't like going to visit her," he confessed quietly, "That's terrible to say isn't it but…my life was hell as a child. I had so much responsibility after Dad left. I don't like seeing her because it reminds me that my own fate maybe the same as hers," he finished in a hushed tone.

George's experience rapidly filled in gaps and knew that this was all important.

"But you're not her, Spencer," George replied with a gentle firmness, "You're really past the usual age for a male to present with a first episode of the illness, although I can appreciate, because of my work, your anxiety over this matter."

"Yeah, it's what all psychs say but when it's a parent it haunts you, no matter how much you try to push it to the back of your mind…it's always near the surface."

"Was the nightmare about an incidence concerning your Mom's illness?"

"Yeah, but I don't want to talk about it…Can I go back to my room now," the patient suddenly said, and George saw the sensitive face suddenly take on the mask of neutrality and the eyes lost their expressiveness. The psychiatrist knew he had retreated to an inner stronghold away from his probing.

"Of course, I'll walk you back," George said, pushing back his chair from the table.

Spencer had returned to his room and got back into bed as if he was operating on automatic. Spencer closed his eyes as soon as his head hit the pillow but George did not leave the room straight away. He pulled the covers evenly across the supine form and then went to sit in the chair by the window, which was hidden by the heavy drapes that had been pulled across to block out the night time view.

George stayed for over an hour watching and thinking about this young patient. He composed his report in his head for Don who he expected later after breakfast. Reid did not move once he had lain down but George was not convinced that he was truly asleep. There was a lack of natural nocturnal movements our bodies all engage in as we sleep, but he did not disturb Sean for the remainder of the night.

Don read the report George had left for him. It was a good sign that Reid had actually talked about his Mom to someone other than the FBI personnel on his case. He was also interested with the reference to Elle and the Randall Garner case; it was very probable that Reid was blaming himself for Elle getting shot and eventually resigning. However, it also seemed that he was still blaming himself for the other incidents that touched his colleagues. Don was annoyed with Gideon, who had reported that Reid was dealing well with the aftermath, and that the team was still working well as a unit despite Elle's eventual departure. Don spent some time re-thinking his approach for the morning session and eventually went to find his patient, an hour after breakfast.

Spencer had not returned to his room after breakfast but had gone to the lounge. He sat quietly in the corner reading while relaxing in a well-stuffed, high-backed green leather chair. It surprised Don to see him wearing spectacles and he thought how they made him look like a young professor. As Don approached, he saw a pile of books to the side of his chair.

"Are they waiting to be read?" Don couldn't help himself asking. They all knew about his reading abilities at the FBI and Hotch had confessed to finding the ability extremely useful out in the field.

Spencer looked up and a shy smile briefly formed before he answered, "I've read those since breakfast, I'm now half way through 'The Voyage of the Argo'

"Mmm, Jason's voyage looking for the golden fleece… you choose ancient classics over all the latest novels in the library?" said Don smiling, as he sat down to scan the other finished titles, "Oh, a serious case of ancient classical binging here! Lets see works by Plutarch, Seneca, Pliny the Elder and Virgil …Guess I can't really compete with that company for mental stimulation."

"I like these over some of the modern crap," Spencer replied succinctly and Don noted that the eyes twinkled with a certain mischief.

Don was pleased that he still seemed open enough for a light chat.

"You're later than yesterday. Did George write a long report about my nightmare and our subsequent talk?" Reid enquired. Don registered that his patient was coming out fighting from his corner this morning.

"Yes he did," replied Don honestly, "I was pleased that you did talk to George, it was a good sign that you could tell him about your Mom. Shall we go to our appointed room?"

Reid nodded knowing that it was the best place to talk and he might get some coffee like yesterday.

Reid noticed how they seemed to have slipped in to an unspoken routine of not talking as you walked the corridors. He had observed other patients behaved in this manner and he concluded that it was the patient's natural defence mechanism slipping into action. These precious few minutes allowed the patient to try and erect barriers against the expected probing once in the consulting room.

"Right, same as yesterday?" Don asked, as soon as they closed the door. He was already at the kitchenette gathering the coffee things together.

"Please, Gino only lets me have a small cup at breakfast," Spencer complained.

"Did you eat better than yesterday?"

"I ate 2 pieces of toast with strawberry jam today…didn't you check?" countered Spencer.

"No, I was too busy reading what George had written on his encounter with you early this morning," replied Don, bringing a plate of raspberry muffins and chocolate cookies to the coffee table. He turned back to the kitchenette to check on the percolating coffee. "How did you feel about talking to George over a family issue?"

"Ok, he was very understanding but then being a psychiatrist he ought to be… it's the general public that can't cope if you let it slip out,"

"It affected friendships when you were a child?"

"Yeah, well the local children soon picked up that my Mom was a bit odd and some of that came from what they heard their parents saying. After Dad left the rumours were …fantastic! Really, Don, the neighbourhood kids even said that my Mom had murdered my Dad. I got so upset about this that the school principal had the ringleaders in her office to explain that Dad had left to work in England and that Mom had definitely not murdered him. But I heard what the adults used to say when they didn't notice me while shopping. You know, they were on Dad's side for leaving saying that they were always hearing her shouting at him…It wasn't like that, they didn't quarrel all the time."

"I'm sure they didn't but you know how people exaggerate and distort the truth."

"Yeah, they quarrelled and I tried to stay out of it, buried myself in books."

"Did you have any friends?"

"There was Jeff, he lived two houses away but he left when I was nearly 12. We sometimes rode our bikes together and walked to the library, he wasn't liked much because his Dad was an accountant with the IRS and his Mom was a secretary there. They moved to the area when I was 6 and we became friends because we were a bit sidelined by the other kids. His Dad got promoted to the New York office so we lost touch and I graduated that year and went to live on campus with the Bishop family."

"You enjoyed being with Dr. and Mrs. Bishop?" asked Don, and watched how Spencer's eyes lit up and a faint smile danced across his long thin face.

"They were very kind to me. It was the first time that I experienced living in a normal family…I mean it was on campus but it was a happy family and they treated me like one of the family. They had a daughter, who was studying medicine at John Hopkins, and a son was away at Cornell and then there was the youngest son, who was 6 and so I filled a gap for little Peter…He was a menopause baby! It gave me a sense of stability. Then every Saturday morning, Dr. Bishop drove me to the bus station and put me on the bus that went across the town to my home. He would pick me up on the Monday morning from the bus station and I would be back on campus ready for my 9 a.m. lecture."

"Were you with the Bishops when you had the news about your father?" Don gently asked, and saw a flicker of emotion in the large eyes.

"The family lawyer, Mr. Hadley came, it was a Wednesday, in the late afternoon. I got back from lectures to find him waiting for me. Dr. Bishop said that he had some very sad news and I thought it might be about my Mom, but when he told me that Dad was dead…I just couldn't believe it. I just stood staring at him. It was shocking; there wasn't even a body, so we couldn't have a proper burial and closure. Mr. Hadley said that it was best that I didn't go home that weekend because my Mom was distraught and the doctor was talking about admitting her for a few days."

"Is that what happened?"

"Mom went into hospital for a week, they got her there on the pretext of trying some new medication, but she seemed like she always was when I next saw her. She wouldn't talk about Dad at all now, whereas before his death she only mentioned him if she was having a rant about him being weak."

"And you, Spencer, was there someone there for you to talk to?"

"Yeah, Dr. and Mrs. Bishop were very supportive and the student counsellor's kept seeing me. The counsellors kept an eye on me anyway because I was an under age student and they made sure that you were coping with things." Spencer explained and acknowledged just how caring the university had been towards him during his years there.

"Mr. Hadley dealt with all the crash details and had Dad's things sent home, but as I said, Mom destroyed them. She destroyed all the letters and birthday cards that Dad had sent. When I got the scarf sent to me, Ken told me, in the accompanying letter, how Dad had been a friend from his student days. Ken said that Dad had been very proud of me and hoped I liked the postcards and little gifts he'd sent. When I told Ken I'd not received anything from my father, Ken was upset, but said that my father suspected Mom was not letting me receive things because I'd not replied back.

When Dad died, I asked Mr. Hadley if he'd any letters or instructions about me from Dad. He said that he'd only been informed not to instigate divorce proceedings but to maintain the legal separation. Mr. Hadley said that this was because he thought my Dad was planning to return to this country after his collaboration with British colleagues drew to an end. Hadley thought that Dad had planned being away 3 years because his collaborators only had guaranteed funding for that time on the project they were all working on. Well, his death meant that we'd never know, but Mr. Hadley told me that he had sent his secretary to my High School graduation to get pictures for my Dad…so I guess he cared for me after all."

"Perhaps your Dad was just worn out with the strain of trying to get on with his own career and the responsibility for your Mom. The break away may have been his safety valve, especially as he never divorced your Mom, and he certainly had adequate grounds, and did leave maintenance money. That was a caring act, Spencer…I think he felt trapped for a while and needed breathing space." Don said, finding himself feeling some sympathy for the academic, but also didn't think he personally could have left his only child with the sick wife.

The pair fell silent as they drank coffee and ate the comfort food before them.

"Would you have liked to have gone with your Dad?" the older man suddenly decided to probe in another direction.

"I think at the time I was closer to Dad and I'd have preferred to be with him because we did do things together. The only pleasurable memories with Mom was her reading to me, and in the early years her singing around the house which she stopped doing that once the illness took over more of her life. However, even the reading became tainted because it was the only way I could feel close to her. I wanted to love her because I think she was very unhappy and felt abandoned by her husband… that's why she called him weak…he couldn't cope with her being sick."

" Do you think you would have been happier with your Dad?" Don kept digging into these painful memories.

Spencer shrugged, "It's an academic exercise, Don, it didn't happen so I will never know." The young man snapped back at the psychiatrist. " Perhaps if I'd left with him…well Mom wanted him to take me but he didn't even reply to the plea so he obviously didn't want me at that time… Mom and I were both abandoned and if I'd left, I would probably still have felt the guilt I feel even now at leaving her,"

Don nodded, as he observed the compassionate man before him who was still being consumed by the decisions he had to take in his mother's best interest.

"You've got to let go of that decision you made at 18, Spencer. It was correct, and as a psychologist you know it was, but the heart doesn't act rationally."

"But I was doing what Dad had done 8 years earlier, I was abandoning her," he pleaded guilty with the very anguish reflected in his open features, the large mournful eyes welled up with unshed tears.

"No you weren't," Don said firmly, "You were not Diana's husband nor the father of a child and your father abandoned both of you. I can't imagine you abandoning your sick wife, and certainly not a child, because you have experienced that special deep gnawing emotional pain that only those who have felt rejected by a parent can feel." Don felt his own gut twist with the truth of that statement, "Both my parents rejected me, I was sent away out of sight so they could continue their hedonistic lives,"

Spencer stared at Don who was not going to let Spencer wallow in his self imposed guilt. Reid felt a kindred spirit reach out to him by revealing his own unhappy memories.

"I relived the times Dad left and when I had Mom taken away to the hospital when Tobias Hankel gave me his drugs. I keep hearing Charles Hankel reminding me that I've committed a sin against my parent. I know I'd make the same decision if I had too…I'd tried to understand and cope but I couldn't cope any more worrying about her and trying to be myself. I think that's how Dad must have felt. But you're right, I couldn't have left my child. I felt so alone with Mom because I didn't want the authorities to really know how bad things were at home; they'd have taken me into care…I feared that. It was bad enough being in a state school but taken into care! I knew I just had to hold on until I got to university and things would be easier for me."

Spencer wiped a stray tear away; he was not going to break down like he had with Arthur.

"You were right, it did get better because then you had the Bishop family to give you a more stable experience of life. That's what you have to aim for, not the dysfunctional family life you had with your Mom. You'd like to have a normal family life wouldn't you? " asked Don, continuing to assert a more positive side to this session.

"Yeah, I would. I hope that I wouldn't make the mistakes my parents made but then I might develop schizophrenia and destroy any relationship just like it destroyed my parents' lives," replied Spencer, and he wondered where Don was going with this questioning.

"I don't believe that you'll have schizophrenia. I think you're more likely to get hurt on the job and invalided out of fieldwork. But then with your talents, you could easily slip into academia. What is valuable to your work are the insights you have because of your understanding of mental illness, but that's as far as it goes…insights, Spencer, not full blown schizophrenia."

"You make it sound so easy. I'm awkward in social situations until I feel comfortable with people. I've had the odd date, but nothing lasts. I can't say that I minded because they probably wouldn't have made lasting relationships anyway. I can't see how I'm suppose to break this cycle of thinking that my upbringing is blighting my present."

"Spencer, I promise you, by the time you leave here you will be able to start shaping your life in a more full filling direction. Which means that the job is not going to be the excuse for not going out and interacting with a wider circle of people, outside the BAU."

"I do have friends outside work," Spencer replied indignantly, and wondered how the conversation had taken this direction and was this Don's aim for the morning anyway.

Don suddenly looked at his wristwatch, "Come on, I'm quite hungry, hope they have something good on the menu today," he suddenly stated and Spencer felt once more wrong footed.

"You're beginning to sound like Arthur," Spencer replied as he rose from the couch. But as they walked silently along towards the dining room, Spencer felt different. He was changing through these talks with Don, but he was too scared to think about it too deeply at that moment.

Lunch was delicious. Hilary had made a vegetarian moussaka with a selection of lightly steamed vegetables. Dessert was fruit salad and ice cream or ice cream on it's own. Reid loved ice cream and ended up with 3 large scoops of his favourite flavours: strawberry, chocolate and vanilla. Don had chatted about a recent holiday he had taken to the Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, and the 90 minutes spent over lunch quickly disappeared with the ease of conversation that flowed between the two men. Reid had been full of scientific knowledge but also a childlike wonderment to soak up yet more knowledge from Don's experiences of the trip.

"Let's get some fresh air," Don said, as the staff were waiting for the stragglers to leave so they could finish their clearing up tasks.

Don let Spencer lead the way and Spencer found himself enjoying the brightness of the sunshine even if there was still a keen wind. They wandered up a slope that lead to a gazebo that gave fine views back towards the clinic and its extensive grounds. They sat down enjoying being sheltered from the wind.

"How did you manage to fit in the shopping with school or did your Mom do that?" asked Don, genuinely intrigued to understand Reid's childhood.

"Mom go out! Jeez…Don some days Mom never got out of bed. I 'd go in with her breakfast in the morning and tell her that I was going to school. I'd come home to find that the food was untouched and she was still in her night-clothes and under the covers. She obviously got up to go to the bathroom and to check the post, but she never answered letters. Mr. Hadley had utility bills paid by direct debit but getting her to sign forms was difficult. She felt the government was trying to get her to confess to things…I never discovered what was the basis of her paranoia,"

"Well, that's often the case with schizophrenics," Don assured, but he knew Reid was aware of the fact, "So how did you get her to sign forms and cheques and things?"

Spencer seemed to withdraw and Don wondered why a simple question would lead to such introspection. He watched the man seated beside him, Reid unconsciously played with his long bony fingers, and gently bit into his lower lip: something was wrong.

"Spencer," Don said gently and reached out to touch Reid's nearest arm; the patient jolted at the touch, "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I asked a question I…"

"I heard it. I was just wondering if I should answer it?" replied Spencer, in a far away voice.

"There's a problem with the question?" probed the alerted Don, wondering what the hell he'd touched upon.

Spencer turned to his inquisitor, who saw the indecision in the young gaunt face.

"How about if I promise to keep the reply secret and I really mean that," Don assured, and watched the man swallow nervously. Don could see Spencer willing himself to reply.

"I had to use a rather unorthodox method…You know, I'm the team's graphology expert, I needed to be an expert very early on because I had to get it right…If the bank had become suspicious, I'd have been taken into care…" Spencer began with a childlike simplicity.

"You forged your Mom's signature?" finished Don, as the pieces slipped into place, "Of course you'd have to and you kept doing this right up to when you went away to Harvard?"

Spencer nodded; his voice had left him for the moment but was grateful for the comforting squeeze of his arm that Don gave him.

"Well, guess you were good at it because no one ever found out and you put all that knowledge to good use now…I'll not tell anyone."

"Thanks," Spencer managed, and felt relieved that Don understood the solution that the boy Spencer had used to overcome the problem.

"Did you use your Mom's cash card at the bank for ready cash then?"

"Yeah, you know, I needed to have some cash so I knew her card number and that was how I initially got some money out each week. Sometimes, I wrote one of Mom's cheques out to myself so I could draw out the money from my account so it didn't look too suspicious. When the banks started using cameras with the machines, I had to use the cheque method…Las Vegas was one of those cities that used cameras with their cash machines early."

Don was quiet; the child had done what was necessary for him and his Mom as a family unit. "I take it that your Mom didn't let social services assist her?"

"They were supposed to keep an eye on her while I was away staying with the Bishops'. But I think she was so difficult that her case worker just made the call but didn't stay to try and persuade Mom to shop with her or clean…Well, I'm sure you can imagine."

Don was appalled on one level, but he knew that psychiatric care in the community took a lot of commitment from those employed to deal with these difficult patients.

"So when you went home at the weekends you did the shopping, cleaning, laundry and whatever had to be done before returning to campus on the Monday," summarised Don, who had a vivid picture in his mind of the scenario, "I suppose things deteriorated pretty quickly once you left for Harvard?"

"Yeah, I was only away 10 weeks and Mom was in such a state. The house was a mess; she'd been eating mostly food out of the freezer which I'd stocked up before leaving, and their was the long life milk, tea, cereals and various tins of things in the cupboards, just in case the case worker hadn't got her out. The house was in a disgusting state; it stank. Mom smelt. She'd given up washing, her hair was all matted…It hurt her when I tried to comb out all the tangles, in the end, I had to cut it back to a manageable length.

I cleaned up the house and her and tried to get Mom to consider a more sheltered environment. I made a nuisance of myself at social services until I got her case- worker changed, but I had to go back to my research at Harvard. I rang Mom's social worker every week to find out what was happening. They must have been sick of me but I couldn't do anything until I was 18 and then… well you know what I did." He stated flatly and felt strained by the memories.

"Spencer, you were and are a good son. Your Mom will never really appreciate all you've done for her. If you'd said something, while in the school system, you'd have been taken away from her."

"I know and that was me being selfish because I didn't want to be bullied in the care system like I was at school. Can you imagine what the kids at school would've done to me if I had been taken into care and kept at the same school?"

"I don't want to think about it because you took decisions so it wouldn't happen. They were very adult decisions that you made along the way, and that's one of your problems, Spencer. You had to take on adult responsibilities far too early and now you are aware of the big gap in experience that you and your peers have. You missed out on a lot of normal growing up experiences, some of which were inevitable because you are a genius. However, once more at ease with student life at Harvard, you hid your self in the research because of your social awkwardness."

"Yeah, I've always been apart…like there is always a part of me that feels ancient because I had to be an adult carer for my Mom, and yet there is still a part of me that retains a childlike fascination in the world of knowledge." Spencer replied philosophically.

Don sat back and observed his patient: he was just 26 years old and yet like he said, he was both ancient and innocent within the world he lived. The psychiatrist let the companionable silence calm the younger man before he mounted another attack on his patient's defences.

Meanwhile, Spencer looked out at the restful scene and mulled over all that they had talked about today. He was grateful that Don had understood his reasons for his forgery, but as a child, Spencer knew he was breaking the law and his honest soul still felt uneasy about his actions. He had buried those memories deep; he'd never used the money to buy things for himself, only the necessary things for living and for school. Spencer had always been careful with money; even now he was not extravagant with his money and saved a large proportion of his salary. Reid remembered how surprised Arthur had been to find out that he owned his apartment but it was not well furnished, nor did he buy flashy clothes; there was no need he told himself.

"Spencer," Don spoke softly, breaking into Reid's thoughts and he turned to face the psychiatrist,but the profiler was not prepared for the next question, "Why are you afraid of the dark?"

Spencer felt himself tumble over the precipice. He didn't want to even think about this; he wanted to run away, back to his small neat apartment with its mismatched furniture and favourite books and music. Spencer felt the life being sucked out of him; he shivered as if he was freezing from exposure to an icy gale. His mouth was dry, the heart beat thudded in his throat, his stomach twisted in on itself, pushing acid upwards. Spencer then felt a rush of unexpected heat through his upper torso, he felt dizzy and found himself standing reaching for the wooden sides of the gazebo for support. There was saliva suddenly in his mouth, too much saliva and he tried to swallow some away but he had no control. He leaned over and vomited lunch on the threshold of their refuge from the wind.

Spencer became aware of his body shaking and gasping for clean air. Don was standing beside him, supporting him with an arm around the back. Reid breathed deeply trying to gain control of his weak body and he mockingly thought that he had doing well today!

End of Chapter 5


	6. Chapter 6

The In- Between Times: Chapter 6 

**By Helena Fallon**

Spencer Reid felt his world slowly re-configure. Don's question had really freaked him out and there would be no evading the experiences behind the panic attack. Don would remain a quiet supportive presence for as long as it took, but Spencer was feeling so drained by these emotional journeys he was taking. This was only the third day and yet between them, Arthur and Don had breached his defences. A small voice mocked him inside his head from a memory of the case that had brought him here. No, it had not been Don and Arthur who had initially breached his carefully guarded childhood memories; it had been Hankel.

The wind bit into his exposed face and helped him to regain his sense of reality. His body was steadying itself after its dramatic reaction. In the past he remembered that he'd been asked why he was afraid of the dark and he'd answered 'because of the inherent absence of light'. It had been a typical Dr. Spencer Reid reply to throw the inquisitor off the scent, but he wondered if J.J. and Morgan had believed his superficial reply. Garcia had enjoyed winding him up when he was alone in that dark house, back in Ozona, Texas, when they had been searching for a child serial killer. But he doubted she would have been so insensitive if she'd known the truth. The fault was his, and only his, because he did not trust those around him to know more about his odd childhood.

He felt Don remove his steadying arm from round his back. Spencer missed its comforting presence, but he was no longer shaking and he was sure that Don had decided it was safe to give him a little space.

"Would you like some water? I brought some along because of the panic attack you had with Arthur and I knew it might be on the cards this afternoon," Don offered in his soothing voice.

Spencer nodded and heard Don let out a little grunt as he unscrewed the top of the bottled spring water.

"Damn things, they don't make them easy to get into," he muttered, as he passed the plastic bottle to his patient.

"Thanks," Spencer whispered and drank the water slowly, savouring the freshness of its taste as it washed away the after tang of stomach acid.

Don did not hurry him but carefully watched to judge the best time to suggest moving back to the warmth. The psychiatrist knew that the medical staff would be worried that he'd emptied his stomach contents again, as he was underweight for his height and despite the natural lightness of his frame.

"Do you think you could manage the walk back?" Don finally asked, his voice was heavy with concern.

"Yeah," was all Spencer replied and stepped purposely into the wind and the path back to his comfortable prison like existence. He heard Don speaking into his cell phone behind him telling some one what had happen. No doubt another 'clean up' crew would be sent, but no one ever said anything about any patients' incidents, even if another patient witnessed them. All was silence within the confines of this Clinic; everyone was discreet and utterly professional. Spencer wondered how much the Bureau was paying for his time here, but in his heart he was grateful that he was in this protective environment and not back on his own in his apartment.

Don did not attempt to break into his patient's introspection. It had been decided to strike while he was at his weakest, once the de-tox aftermath was under control and he'd gained weight. Max had decided that the best strategy for dealing with Reid was not to let him build up another protective barrier.

However, Don had to admit he was getting too close to this patient, and he needed to be more professional, but Reid was an exception; Max had stressed that. It troubled Don that he couldn't 'switch off' when he went home like he could with his other patients. He had sat in his study last night trying to get to the bottom of these unusual feelings and in the end had rung Arthur to discuss the situation with him. They both agreed that Max had chosen them because they needed to use their personal experiences to reach the highly gifted and deeply sensitive young agent. Both men could appreciate how Gideon had lost his objectivity when dealing with Reid; the lack of a normal loving home had left this young man deeply scarred.

Spencer was grateful for the warmth that greeted them as they entered the building. He felt tired and a bit shaky inside and would have liked to retreat to his bedroom but Don had other plans. He was once more taken to the consulting room that looked out over the well-tended lawn but he was surprised when he found the room was already occupied.

"How are you feeling, Spencer?" asked the small and very neat Dr. Paul Rosen. "I was concerned that you have been vomiting with your panic attacks,"

"Yeah, right. Well, I don't really have any control over that," replied an irritated Spencer.

"No, you don't," conceded the M.D. "But we do care, especially as you tend to be underweight naturally and we don't want you going any lower than your present BMI of 17."

Reid stared at the doctor surprised that he was so light despite the fact that he was trying to eat at least two good meals a day and always the comfort food, which was obviously generously allowed in his case. He usually weighed in with a BMI of 20, just within acceptable limits for his height.

The doctor's clinical eye weighed up the patient's appearance, "I'm going to have a light meal prepared for you, you can eat it in here. Don won't mind and no coffee, only peppermint tea until tomorrow,"

Spencer sank down onto the nearest brown leather couch. He felt cold despite the wool jumper he had over a thick cotton shirt and the heat of the building.

"Lie down for a bit," the Doctor ordered, and Spencer found himself mindlessly doing as he was told, and even allowed the man to remove his trainers, which he'd forgotten to do when he stretch out on the ample couch.

"Take your time to warm up again," Dr. Rosen instructed, as he suddenly spread a soft pale green fleecy blanket over him. Reid closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the sense of being cared for and tried not to think about the reason for the present situation.

When he awoke, he felt too warm and cast off the blanket as he stretched out from the foetal position he'd been asleep in. He yawned, and found Don looking at him with concerned eyes.

"Have I been asleep very long?" he asked guiltily.

"No, just a catnap…no more than 30 minutes. It gave me the time to write up my notes. Like some tea now?"

"Please," he said, and watched as Don busied himself in the kitchenette but neither man made any attempt to converse.

Spencer stood and folded the blanket, and placed it on the far end of the couch, before he sat down again. He felt more relaxed now and wondered if Dr. Rosen had warned Don about probing too quickly.

"Sorry its not coffee," apologised Don, as he placed two mugs of peppermint tea on the coffee table.

"Is this out of guilt or sympathy?" asked Spencer, as he eyed Don's mug.

"Bit of both," Don confessed, "I'm sorry, but you know why I did that don't you?"

Spencer sipped the tea and looked his inquisitor in the eye, "Yes, but I don't have to like it." He paused, he was beginning to get use to peppermint tea and appreciate its soothing qualities. "I do know what you are all trying to do for me on a professional level. But the emotional response is so over powering and I've spent so long keeping those emotions under wraps, hidden away…I'm not sure I'm ready to open up the Pandora's box," Spencer confessed, and watched Don's features betray his empathy for him. Spencer felt a kernel of satisfaction that he could still manipulate a fellow professional, but he also acknowledged to himself that he respected Don enormously for the way that he was handling him and his problems.

There was a rap on the door and Don rose smoothly to answer it.

"You, Spencer, have Hilary making you specials…we're going to have to keep this quiet or the other patients will start demanding the same treatment," said Gino as he carried in a large tray which he put on Spencer's knees.

"You'd better eat it all up or Hilary will be in here wanting an explanation," Gino added before leaving.

Spencer lifted the cover on the large dinner plate to find a beautifully presented portion of steamed cod and steamed diced carrots and sliced green beans. The patient felt he had to do his best not to disappoint the cook who had done this especially for him. Don smiled, his baby blue eyes lit up with amusement despite the serious reasons for Hilary's efforts.

"You really know how to charm the ladies, Spencer," Don said good humouredly, watching him begin to eat.

"I don't know what you're getting at?" retorted the young man, who was actually savouring this plain meal and grateful that his stomach seemed happy with it.

"Spencer Reid! You have this Jimmy Stewart 'aw sucks' air about you which attracts a certain type of woman…I can't believe that you're not fighting them off."

Spencer turned big innocent eyes on him, "Don't know what you're getting at," he protested, "I haven't had many dates and the longest girlfriend I had was 4 weeks,"

"Now, I wonder why?"

"Well, the BAU is notorious for ruining one's private life," he threw back, before he ate another mouthful of the tenderly cooked fish.

"But you told me that you would like a normal home life, so why aren't you out there looking for it?" challenged Don.

"I do go out, but most of the women I come across are already with partners or are much older than me."

"So what do you do with your spare time…besides catching up with shopping, laundry and cleaning house," inquired Don, trying to get some more details about Spencer's private life.

"I like to go to classical recitals. I like to visit art galleries and go to the cinema if a film has had a good review. I'm a member of the LSA and…"

"The LSA…what's that?" interrupted Don.

"The Lute Society of America," Spencer replied putting the tray to one side as he'd finished the meal.

"Do you play?" asked Don, who couldn't remember any mention of this on his application form.

"Yes, I play the lute," he said very quietly and Don became professionally alert as he had picked up a sense of withdrawal suddenly from that brief reply.

"Oh, yes, I remember you told Arthur that didn't you," Don quickly added, not wanting to loose Spencer in one of his retreats.

"What did Arthur say?" asked Spencer suspiciously.

"Oh, that he had discovered your lute in your apartment and he'd asked you if you'd like it brought to you, but you said no,"

"Yeah, I don't want it tainted by what's happening here or I might not be able to enjoy playing anymore if every time I pick…." Spencer found that this was getting difficult, he could feel his heart beat begin to quicken.

"What's wrong, there's something more isn't there?" Don gently probed, his melodious voice soothed, wrapping a comfort blanket around the consult room.

"My lute is special, it's a very sensitive instrument," he replied in that quiet child like voice that Don knew now to associate with a deep childhood memory.

"Is it the only instrument you play?" Don's gentle voice enticed the patient to answer.

"No, I can play the piano, and played this at school but at home I learnt…" he stopped, the emotions came flooding back with an unstoppable force. He was so weak, weak just like his father…

Don sat spellbound wondering what memories could suddenly rise from his childhood that were so distressing to his patient. Music and darkness, mused Don, were both significant and he had to decide quickly what to do now.

"You told me that your Dad was a good amateur violinist," Don softly stated.

"Yeah, Dad played in his study…I think it helped him think about mathematical problems and also…If he was having a bad time with Mom, he'd go and shut himself in the study and play…it calmed him I think. He bought me a small violin when I was 3 and taught me to play. I wasn't expected to perform like some parents like to show off their gifted children. Dad wanted for me to experience the beauty and solace that can be found in an instrument. I guess that's what I find when I play the lute. It's a beautiful instrument to hold and its voice is so expressive …it can capture the emotions."

"So you stopped playing the violin and concentrated on the lute?" asked Don, intrigued by the feeling that something vital was being hidden. He carefully observed his patient. The gaunt face looked so utterly open; Spencer's sensitive soul was on the surface. 'One more push,' thought Don and he mentally prepared himself for melt down.

"Did you stop playing the violin because your father had abandoned you?" Don plunged the dagger into the heart of the wounded soul before him.

"No, no…I didn't want to stop. I wanted to play and remember him, but Mom…"

Spencer could not go on as his face crumpled and tears flowed like a child bereft of his most treasured plaything.

Don remembered the time he'd finally broken and his emotional dam burst open to reveal all the repressed hurt and hate towards his own selfish parents, and his gut now twisted in sympathy for his patient. He reached for the large box of paper tissues that were always kept on the shelf under the table. Don grabbed a few and reached across the narrow table to press them into the very distressed man's hands. Spencer was grateful, and it reminded him of a similar incident with Arthur. A part of his brain acknowledged the enormous compassion that both of these men were showing him and he hoped one day, he would have the strength, to help another human being in distress.

Don gave him the space to compose himself, but he knew he would have to press on. He was aware that Spencer didn't like to be physically touched by strangers, so he didn't want to upset him further by giving him a hug. Don watched as the distraught man let the raw emotions of the memories wash threw him. This was a necessary step on the road to dealing with these repressed matters, but it was not easy to witness.

Reid finally looked up and met his searching eyes. Don was going to deal with this now, not tomorrow or next week; this had all been festering far too long.

"What did she do?" Don asked firmly, and the big mournful eyes opened even wider, he swallowed nervously, gathering his thoughts together. The patient briefly considered the possibility of flight, but he had nowhere to hide here, that's why Max had placed him in the Clinic and assigned Arthur and Don. Spencer knew he was trapped. Trapped by his memories…the only way to get out of here would be to tell the truth no matter how hard he'd tried to deny it, hide it, disguise it…

"What did she do?" Don repeated, his tone told Spencer he was not going to back down.

"It was 2 days after Dad had left. I'd made a meal, but Mom didn't eat much and I'd finished my latest school project, I just wanted to play my violin. I went to my room and started to play Bach's second partita…Mom suddenly burst in screaming that she never wanted to hear a violin ever again…I was weak like my father…I was not to be contaminated by his thoughts. She snatched it from me and ran downstairs with it. I followed her, shouting for her to give it back, it was mine but…" Spencer broke off and blew his nose and composed himself again before he could continue.

"She took it down to the basement where Dad kept a few tools and things and picked up the hammer. I tried to stop her, but she was so strong when angry. I was pushed away against some metal shelving and lost my balance. She kept bringing the hammer down until all the wood was just a heap of sharp splinters and the once beautiful violin was utterly obliterated.

Reid grabbed more tissues and Don gave him time to compose him self once more, but Don was suspicious, his instincts told him there was still more to come.

"She'd destroyed everything that she could see was Dad's almost as soon as he left, their were only a few books that miraculously survived her purges over the coming days. I've no pictures of my childhood with my Dad, or any of their marriage. Ken, sent me photographs he had from the time he first knew Dad and a few taken at conferences they'd attended…I was so scared, Don…She stood in the basement looking wild and unreachable…I thought she was going to kill me with the hammer."

"Christ, Spencer…What did you do?" Don asked quietly, sensing the terror Spencer was reliving before him.

"I just tried to be very still and small and hoped she wouldn't notice me. I prayed that she'd be better soon and say sorry for what she'd done," Spencer replied with a child's simplicity.

Don felt his heart go out to the man opposite. His own parents were hedonistic bastards and they'd been selfishly aware of everything they'd done, but he'd never been terrified for his life like his patient.

Spencer looked up with haunted eyes, the pain of the memories written in his face.

"I waited…couldn't move. Mom was in her own world and I remember I tried to called out to her, but she looked at me as if I wasn't there and began to talk to Bea.

"That's an end to the scratching music, Bea, we'll be able to rest now," Mom said, and then ran up the stairs still holding the hammer and shut the basement door. I ran up the steps but I couldn't get out because she'd locked the door. There wasn't any other way out and it would be getting dark soon, the light was fading already but I pressed the light switch and nothing happened. Mom had removed the bulb…she did this sometimes…in her mind, the light bulbs were watching…reporting on everything she did…part of her paranoia…"

Don nodded with understanding, he could guess what happened next, but his patient was not going to heal until these suppressed memories were brought out into the light and laid to rest with adult understanding. He watched Spencer will himself to go on.

"I had to stay all night in the dark basement. I sat at the top of the stairs, by the door and would shout for Mom to let me out, but she didn't come until morning. It was awful, every sound was magnified, it was cold and I was too terrified to move…there were things to bump into and get hurt by, even if I had managed not to fall down the staircase. Worst of all…my imagination went into overdrive…I remember whimpering curled up in the corner hoping the ghosts, night beasts or demons wouldn't find me. I wanted to go to the bathroom and couldn't and didn't want to wet my pants…I did it in the corner, but I could always smell stale urine every time I went to the basement, even years later…"

Spencer had hunched himself up, quite unconsciously, on the couch as he recounted these memories. He began to nimble his fingernails in a nervous reaction. But to Don, these were the signs of the truth being told. The psychiatrist believed that he and Arthur could help him through this, and as a consequence, Spencer would be more able to cope with the aftermath of the Hankel case.

"When did she let you out?"

"It was nearly midday, she unlocked the door and said that Bea and Dante told her that the only instrument for a true gentleman to study was the lute and she was going to get me one. I didn't go to school that day, or for the rest of that week. We took a trip to a music shop in Carson City and I acquired my first lute and music books. A tutor was recommended for me, who was at the university in LasVegas, but he held lessons at a music academy a bus ride from our house."

"Your Mom was a professor in Mediaeval literature so I take it Bea could be the Beatrice from Dante's life?"

"I have always thought so. When she is having a bad psychotic break, Bea and Dante always make an appearance. I actually loved the lute from the first time I held one, it is such a beautiful shape, very sensual really…" explained the patient and an idea formed in Don's head for later. "I loved my lessons with Elliot and I progressed quickly and it seemed to calm Mom when I played. She would encourage my practising. I guess it gave us a channel of communication and I quickly found beauty and solace in its repertoire…just like Dad had used his violin."

"And the fear of the dark comes from this episode?" Don probed, just to make sure he'd covered all angles.

"It's the worst memory. When Mom's paranoia was bad, she'd remove light bulbs, she'd done this even before Dad left. I remember when I was 4, having a little night lamp on my table beside the bed…One night it didn't work, so I asked Dad for a new bulb. He came back saying that he couldn't find one and he gave me the torch from the car, but said it was our secret from Mom. The next day, he bought me a torch that I kept hidden in my room so Mom wouldn't take it away.

Mom removed all the light bulbs eventually, when things were really bad, so I got use to hurricane lamps and candles. I spent break times at school in the library and did as much of my schoolwork there so I didn't have too much to do by candlelight. It also kept me out of the playground and away from the bullies. I bought several torches, and hid them around the house for my use and I always had one in my satchel."

"Spencer, that was child cruelty…"

"Look, I just had Mom. It was a case of better the devil you know…I survived and when I went to the University it was different with the Bishops…it was great there," replied Spencer in a pleading tone to be understood.

"Yeah, like you said, you only had to hold on until you got to University…" remarked Don.

"Look, I had to humour Mom to be able to just go to school and keep up a pretense of normality. I do have happy memories of doing things in the dark," Spencer suddenly said.

"Like what?" Don couldn't resist taking the bait.

"Firework displays, I've always loved fireworks and going with Dad to the July 4th ones and any others that came up at reachable events. Dad used to drive me into the desert with a telescope and we'd explore the night sky. When I was with the Bishop family, Dr. Bishop would take me with Peter, on a Friday evening, into the desert with a telescope to teach his son astronomy. You have to get well away from the city lights, the desert has its own sounds and creatures scurrying about at night," answered Spencer with obvious delight.

"So you're not so scared if out in the open, it's about being indoors in the dark," Don wanted to clarify this for his later report.

"Yeah, outside its not claustrophobic and the darkness is different…you know there is usually some starlight, even if there is no moon. There is always the transformed landscape by the absence of the sun's light, but I think I cope better with that because of the happier experiences of being with others in the darkness."

"So the real fear comes from being in a dark house because of no light bulbs," stated Don.

"Exactly. I had to be careful because Mom could go ballistic if she found me with a torch, but I got away with it after the first few mishaps. I hated having to go to the bathroom in the dark. A couple of times, I got caught using a torch and Mom…" he stopped abruptly as the memory resurfaced.

"Mom would drag me to the basement if I got her angry, so I tried to appease her for a less stressful life," he finished, hoping that would be enough for Don to understand.

"Spencer, you do understand that you've been describing is a form of psychological abuse for a young child."

"Yeah, but if I didn't annoy her, I played my lute and got excellent school reports, then every thing was ok," he explained simply.

"Would you do that to your child?"

"Course not! I had no choice really, Don… If I'd told anyone, I'd have been removed and put in the care system and Mom an asylum. I felt guilty enough about that when I eventually had her taken into care, I wouldn't have coped any earlier. Look, I did what I had to and I coped," Spencer asserted.

"So how do you feel about being in dark houses on the job?"

"Depends, on who I'm with," Spencer said carefully, but he knew that Don would press for a more detailed explanation so he continued, "If I'm with Hotch or Gideon it's ok. But Morgan can be a bit of a tease after I told him and J.J. that I didn't like the dark but I was working on it. But on the job, it isn't a normal situation…usually we're looking for a murderer, or suspect, who probably won't allow themselves to be calmly arrested so every one has a certain amount of adrenaline flowing."

"What are you doing about it?" asked Don, to see if there was really a strategy in Spencer's actions to help himself.

"I no longer need to sleep with a bedside light on, even if it has a low wattage. I do take a torch with me in my overnight bag, but I've never used it. I've not insisted on having a nightlight in my room here. I travel ok at night."

"So you feel you're coping all right with these memories,"

"This is the first time I've talked about how my Mom behaved…The drugs Hankel put in my system opened up the most distressing times of my life…my Dad leaving, my Mom's illness and her not really wanting me there, and my Dad didn't want me either. I was just in the way and I tried to be good, I tried to work hard and do well at school but it still wasn't enough for Mom. As an adult, I know a lot of this was her illness, but I really think that I was an unwanted child. I then had to fit into her ideal of the perfect 'knight'…you know the ideal of 'courtly love'." Spencer reasoned and then turned to his inquisitor and asked, "How do you think I'm coping?"

Don considered his reply. " Well the good thing is that you have managed to keep down that last meal. But seriously, Spencer, you did things as a child to keep from being taken away from the only parent you had. That meant enduring the emotional deprivations and psychological abuse of a very mentally sick woman. However, your superb intellect helped you cope. You reasoned how not to make matters worse, while living with your Mom, found out as much as possible about her mental disease and tried to do the best you could for both of you. It has left scars. But you are not going to inflict the damage your Mom subjected you to on another, because you are a sensitive and good person. My task, and Arthur's, is to make you confront the suppressed emotions.

Emotions terrify you because you didn't witness a good relationship with your parent's marriage and that's where we first learn how to handle them. Then there was the bullying you experienced within the state system. You've talked more openly about that over the years, but your parents weren't there to give you emotional support so again you had to find your own way of coping. Is that where the magic tricks come in?"

"Yeah, I was fascinated by magic after seeing a magician, who came to the school fete, when I was 5. I practised a lot over the years; it became useful for the nerdy, skinny kid to be able to amuse others and it didn't seem to have an age barrier."

"Do you trust people, Spencer?" Don suddenly asked, making the patient sit up and snap out of the way his thoughts were meandering across memories.

"Not easily, I've often been let down in the past so I don't expect much from people."

"But do you give them a chance to prove that they are worthy of your trust by letting them get close?" Don continued to dig.

"I guess being a very private person, I can seem aloof at times," the younger man conceded.

"We all have private parts to our personalities that we do not easily reveal, but you take the least visible position. You have 3 exceptional PhDs, and are an accomplished profiler but you don't take the lead when perhaps you should, now that is not just shyness, Spencer."

"I don't want to appear the know it all, because I'm not…I still have plenty to learn," countered Spencer.

"That's only part of it, and you are selling yourself short. You are being sensitive to other fragile egos, so you take a back seat and keep your head down…You should be much more forceful, especially where Agent Morgan is concerned. Do you trust him?"

"Professionally, yes. I don't like his teasing, it reminds me of my High School experiences and he didn't keep his word over a confidence,"

"How about women, do you trust them?"

"You can't lump women all together like that…"

"Ok, you have a valid point, how about the women you know…Do you trust J.J.?"

"Yeah, it wasn't her fault that I was kidnapped but she blamed herself. I told her when they found me, I hope she believed me," replied Spencer earnestly.

"How about Emily?"

"Well, she came to the team out of the blue. I picked up that neither Hotch or Gideon had anything to do with her transfer but she was trying hard to fit in the team…Since being on sick leave, I don't know what's happening," replied Spencer evenly.

"But do you trust her?" pressed Don relentlessly, wanting Spencer to confront the issues of trust.

"Professionally in the field, yes, but I don't know about outside the BAU unit. We don't usually socialise as a group, which I think is healthy, because we spend too much time away from home working together."

"Well, if you were upset would you talk to either J.J. or Emily?"

"No," Spencer replied immediately.

Don sat back, "So you don't really trust women do you? As a psychologist, I want you to tell me why because that way you will have finally confronted the issue that stops you from going out and seeking a companion, and having a mature emotionally stable relationship."

Spencer felt trapped, it had been quite an afternoon and he was amazed that he had kept down the special meal Hilary had prepared for him. Of course, Don was accurate with his analysis, and this present direction of the session was one he had never confronted before because there was just too much emotional baggage to admit to. But his brain mocked him; telling the reluctant Spencer, that Don had ripped open the door to that vault of his emotional turmoil… so why not take this final step to admit the truth.

Don patiently leaned back. He remembered how 30 years previously, his brilliant mentor had sat him down and tore down his defences. The experience had been just as devastating for Don, as for his present patient. However, out of the ordeal, he was able to set upon a course of stability despite his emotionally deprived upbringing.

"I…I have issues caused by 'attachment disorder'," Spencer Reid confessed to the emotionally charged room.

"Yes, Spencer, now tell me why?" Don insisted.

" Attachment disorder is caused by a failure, for some reason, to form a strong bond with the mother in the early years of life…In my case, the emotional bond wasn't very strong and my Dad was the figure I got emotional stability from. But I still feel the insecurity within relationships because of the lack of closeness to my Mom. I feel that she didn't really want a child to interfere with her career and being a demanding child, because of my intellect, couldn't have helped…" he spoke in an emotionless voice, as if he was reading off a checklist.

"Don't you dare blame yourself, Spencer, no child asks to be born and adults have to take responsibility for the nurturing of those they bring into this world, or turn them over to individuals who wanted to take over the parental role…preferably by adoption." Don swiftly and firmly stated, "None of this is your fault, do you see that?"

"Yes," Spencer replied, but his voice sounded soft even to his own ears.

Don knew he'd pushed enough for one day, but he was satisfied with the results.

"Come on, let's go and see if Hilary will let you have some more of her excellent cooking…you never know, you may get a dessert out of her as you kept down that fish."

They walked in silence to the dining room but Don handed Spencer over to Gino, like he had done the previous day. Hilary appeared at his table personally and asked if he wanted anything special, perhaps a light cheese souffle, with his favourite ice cream to follow. He couldn't resist the suggestion and was pleased that his stomach behaved itself.

Over an hour later, he returned to his room to escape the sport on the plasma screen in the television lounge. Spencer was totally surprised to find Don sitting quietly by the window reading the newspaper.

"Nice dinner?" he enquired, smiling pleasantly.

"Yeah, didn't you want to stay and enjoy the cooking, Arthur seems to delight in Hilary's abilities," replied Spencer, unsure why Don was still in the building.

"I wanted to ask Dr. George a question and that lead on to eventually finding this," he answered, as he reached down and brought out a large black case in a shape that Spencer recognised.

"Apparently, no one can remember it being played, but there are spare strings and…"

But the entranced Spencer had stepped forward, and reached out for the case, which he put on his bed before opening. Don was pleased by the reaction; his patient was totally absorbed by the instrument that had lain in the music cupboard for at least a decade.

"Oh, it's a Lawrence Brown…10 course, a copy of a Hieber instrument, I think," Reid said, running his long fingers, over the wood, "It will take a time to retune it after such a long time…" 

"George said it's yours to play while you're here, and its not going to disturb people if you play it in your room," said Don, watching the tension slip away from the young man as he examined the lute.

Spencer looked up and gave Don a wide, open smile, "Thanks, I'd rather play this than watch sport."

Don returned the smile, pleased that tonight he could leave his patient with another outlet to express his inner emotions, "Goodnight, Spencer," he said.

"'Night," said the young man with a distant air, totally focused upon examining the strings.

Don smiled and closed the door softly.

End of Chapter 6.


	7. Chapter 7

The In-Between Times: Chapter 7 

**By Helena Fallon**

Spencer awoke to the soft clattering noises of the Clinic coming alive for a new day. He actually felt rested; he had slept through the night and he couldn't remember any dreams, he turned over and could just make out the large green numerals on the digital clock: 07:13. Spencer smiled to himself, he'd slept for 8 hours; it felt good. He stretched out his long thin frame and began to think about what might happen today.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp rap on the door and the arrival of Larry, who switched on the central light as he walked in.

"Morning, Spencer, sleep well?" he cheerfully greeted the squinting patient.

"Yeah, I did and I was just thinking about getting up,"

"Oh good, because rumour has it that Hilary's making pancakes…now you know how popular they are," Larry informed the young man and then noticed the instrument sitting on the chair, "Ah, so you've sneaked a guest in to share your room, I'm told she has a very sweet voice,"

The patient smiled, "Hope I didn't disturb anyone but Don said I could play it here,"

"Of course you can, no one as complained, infact several of your fellow patients were quite taken with the music coming out of here last night…It didn't disturb anyone and you stopped at 10 so it wouldn't affect anyone trying to get to sleep."

"It's a nice instrument, it took me some time to tune it but it made the evening go quickly, especially as I didn't want to watch the sport."

"Well, you're not really a sports fan are you?"

"No," Spencer replied and he remembered Gideon giving him tickets for the Redskins.

"So, you're good for breakfast then?" enquired Larry, who had been observing the patient and was pleased that today he'd have a good report."

"Yeah, I'll get a shower and make myself presentable…Hilary was really kind to me yesterday, I'd better not miss one of her specialities," said Spencer as he began to get up.

He showered quickly and 15 minutes later entered the dining room. Several of the staff smiled warmly at him and he couldn't stop a shy smile in response. He felt different today; he had reached the darkest memory and brought it into the light of day. The effort had been emotionally intense but that memory had been shared with Don and he had been helped to confront it as the capable adult he was. It would always be a memory, but admitting the truth behind the emotions of that haunting episode was the key to taming the intensity of the incident and putting it into perspective. Spencer Reid quietly accepted to himself that he had been strong enough to survive living with a mentally ill parent: he was not weak.

"Can I have breakfast with you this morning?" asked Dr. George Cordle.

"Sure," replied Spencer, surprised to find the resident psychiatrist in the dining room,

"You like pancakes too?"

"Yes, "he smiled, "Usually, after being on night duty, I drive home to my wife's cooking but she's gone with our daughter to New York…they're shopping!" he confided, "Leila's getting married in a couple of months,"

"So they're spending a few days away…I'm not really into shopping, I like to browse on the internet to see if I can get things without having to brave the crowds," confessed Spencer.

"I'm with you there, but women…they always seem to have the energy to shop."

The two men chatted about the superiority of the internet that saved them moving out of their chairs and freed them to do other more important things, which in Dr. George's case, appeared to be tinkering with his Harley-Davison bike.

The resident psychiatrist was pleased that the young man seemed more at ease than he'd been since arriving. The time went quickly, delicious pancakes with soft fruit fillings were devoured along with a generous amount of coffee. The patient was making good progress and after an emotional day yesterday, seemed to be eating well and his whole demeanour was more positive.

Spencer returned to his room after breakfast and began to play the lute once more. He was so totally engrossed in exploring the musical capabilities of the instrument, that he didn't notice Don slip in quietly.

"Oh!" he nervously jumped when he looked up and found Don sitting on the bed watching him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you but I also didn't want to stop the music. What do you think of the lute?" asked Don, pleased that the Clinic staff all had positive reports about his patient that morning.

Don was aware that he had pressed Spencer hard yesterday, but he didn't regret it now. He was delighted when he had found out that somewhere a lute was to be found amongst the collection of instruments at the Clinic. The psychiatrist had decided that if he'd not found one, then he was going to buy a lute before returning today. Don understood Spencer's valid reasons for not wanting his own lute here, however, his patient had revealed how music was central to his equilibrium; that fact alone warranted a lute for the patient. Reid looked so much more relaxed this morning, strange that his Mom's choice was actually perfect for this sensitive man.

"Every instrument has their own voice, and I'm still exploring the characteristics of this lady," said Spencer, and he watched as Don's eyebrows lifted in surprise at the personification of the lute, "Well, Larry thinks the lute is feminine, and when you look at the curves and the sweetness of the sounds…it's not really a masculine shape or sound compared with other instruments of the same period," explained Spencer with the enthusiasm of a devotee; his face was animated, the large sunken eyes twinkled with glee as he spoke.

Don didn't want this mood to disappear as he felt this was the closest they had been to the pre-Hankel Reid since his arrival at the Clinic. However, he also knew he had to continue to explore the past with Reid or Hankel's madness would destroy this brilliant young man.

"Why not bring the lute with us to the consulting room, you can play it for me there," invited Don, hoping that the lute would be a life belt in the stormy ocean of emotions the patient was being tossed in.

Reid settled himself on a leather couch as soon as they got to the consulting room, and was already tuning the strings before Don reached the kitchenette.

"I think you're allowed coffee as you slept and kept down your food after the fish yesterday," Don stated, turning to fill the percolator.

"I hope so…Dr. George let me have coffee at breakfast," replied Spencer, with a tone of voice that was held a hint of rebellion had Don not suggested his favourite beverage.

Don smiled, he was beginning to understand even more why Spencer Reid was well thought of by the BAU; he didn't ruffle feathers, but was good natured with a certain gentle banter when he allowed you to get to know him. Don placed the large white mugs on the counter and found the milk jug in the fridge, and placed the sugar bowl on the tray, All the while, he was entertained by the gentle tunes that were filling the room. They didn't last very long but they were finely formed to his musical ear.

Don's own instrument was the piano and he like to play pieces by Mozart, Schubert and Brahms. His wife liked him to play Chopin, but then she favoured Chopin's more melancholy pieces, each perfectly formed capturing the loneliness of the exile. Don didn't feel an exile; not any more…as a young man he'd felt alone in the big world that seemed so alien to him. He shut the door firmly on his own thoughts. Reid had the ability to make him remember his own dysfunctional family life, something that his very stable marriage had pushed back into the deep recesses of his mind.

He turned and observed the musician. Spencer was totally engrossed in the lute: player and instrument were fused as a single entity. His long thin body wrapped round and over the delicate sounding lute as if protecting it, coaxing the reluctant timid being to sing for the audience. Don watched the patient; his barriers were totally down as he was lost to the music. Spencer's face was heartbreakingly sensitive…every emotion that the lute touched upon was mirrored here in the player.

The lutenist came to the end of a haunting piece, and looked up, and smiled at Don, who was pleased that he seemed so relaxed compared to their first meeting.

"That was beautiful, what was it?" Don asked simply.

"A piece by the Elizabethan, John Dowland called, "In Nomine", also catalogued as Fantasie number 4. I love the music of Dowland; I play his work the most. He wrote many pieces, widely covering the emotions, although of course it's the more famous 'Lachrimae' that is usually associated with him." Spencer stopped, "Sorry, I'll end up giving you a lecture if you're not careful…I'm a member of the Dowland Society and I take my lute to meetings but, even if I manage to attend, I'm often called away," he admitted with an air of resignation.

"The job…but you've made friends there?"

"Oh yeah, they all know about the job and having to dash away if I get the call, but it was the first place I went to meet people outside of Quantico. Actually, when I got introduced to other members, I met quite a few other FBI people from a variety of departments!"

Don chuckled, "Yeah, we forget that for Virginia, the Bureau is a big employer," the psychiatrist replied, bringing the tray of coffee and cookies to the table, "I think they're cinnamon," he stated, indicating the plateful of cookies.

"This place is really trying to keep my weight up," Spencer said lightly, but Don was really delighted with his attitude today and he hoped it was going to last.

"So, you slept well. Ate a good breakfast. Now, how do you feel about our time yesterday?" the older man gently enquired, watching carefully his patient's reaction.

Spencer sighed, he knew that question would be asked and if he was ever going to return to his own apartment then he had to be honest with himself and Don.

"I've never talked like that to anyone before, it wasn't easy but I know I had to face those memories. It's not something that I would normally bring into a conversation."

"What isn't?" the inquisitor pressed, he wanted to make sure that the patient could bring himself to mention it again.

"That I have problems with attachment disorder. It's one thing to read the literature but I deliberately didn't apply it to my own memories because…because it was too painful to re-open those wounds from childhood. I knew on an academic level, but I didn't want to admit it," he replied quietly, but he was steady in his determination to face the facts of the matter.

"Do you love your Mom?" Don asked simply, but Spencer had to face this hurdle before he could proceed today.

"She's the woman who gave birth to me but I can't love her the way Peter Bishop obviously loves his Mom. Mrs. Bishop was so kind and willing to give me her time alongside her natural son. She would always ask me what I was studying and talk about whatever was happening in our lives. I really was treated like one of the family. I've always been lucky with the people I met at University. There were always people prepared to give me some of their precious leisure time and make up for my Mom's lack of interest. I suppose it's really a feeling of care I've for my Mom, and I do feel sorry for her because of her illness, but love? I think I love Mrs. Bishop as the Mom I wish Diana Reid had been." The patient replied in a detached but brutally honest way. Don watched, as Spencer seemed to hug the lute close to his body as he spoke these words.

"Are you still in contact with the Bishops?"

"Yeah," Spencer looked up, his face softened and the large brown eyes lit up, " I have an open invitation to visit when in LasVegas and I do stay with them when I visit my Mom. I send regular emails to Peter, he's at Cornell, and I always send them birthday and Christmas cards. Mrs. Bishop seems to keep track of the BAU team if we get mentioned in the papers…it's a bit embarrassing but I guess it's because I lived with them for 5 years,"

"Spencer, she sounds a very warm and maternal person and I'm glad you had such a person …and Dr. Bishop, because they gave you the experience of a normal stable life even if it was in the student world of a campus. I quite envy you that." Don stated, and Spencer looked at him in surprise at his admission.

"Yeah, I realise more than ever now, you know with my work, just how fortunate I was with that placement and that they kept me in their family during my 5 years at that place."

Don nodded, glad that Spencer realised the importance of that caring and sensitive family who had in effect been like a foster family to the young genius.

"I only had a boarding school and although there was the occasional teacher who showed an interest, they didn't like to get too close. You know, if the boys thought you were 'teacher's pet' then that could open you up to bullying and rumours about inappropriate behaviour…So the adults around me were by necessity professionally distant," Don explained remembering the artificial world of the boarding school that had given him some stability.

"Did you love your Mom?" Spencer asked, although he knew the answer.

"No, and I didn't love my Dad either; they only had a weird hurtful twisted love between themselves. I love my wife, Debbie, and she came from a loving family. It was quite a revelation to be accepted by her family and they taught me about trust and not being afraid to love. It was overwhelming when I found that not only did Debbie love me, but her family wanted to draw me into their warm caring world aswell," confessed Don, but he had made this emotional journey long ago and felt more comfortable about sharing this personal experience.

Spencer's big soft eyes stared at the older man; "I envy you. I don't trust people easily and can't imagine being accepted like that."

"At the time it scared me, but Debbie stood her ground and put up with me and my insecurities. But you, you trusted the Bishops, so you start in a better position than the one I had."

"Right, but it took some time to trust the Bishops. I thought I'd be moved to another campus family after the first year. You met your wife, but I don't seem to get the dating thing…I'm just a disaster with women, I usually let them ask me out!"

"Well, lets look on the bright side of that statement," the psychiatrist firmly stated, "They at least find you attractive and probably ask you out because they've given up hoping you'll make the first move! I was terrified of women just in case I ended up with one like my Mom. I went on a few blind dates, which were a total disaster, not helped by me having a drink before hand for Dutch courage!" Don laughed at the memory. "I was a mess, my room mate couldn't understand why someone who was as good looking…well I was when younger, didn't have a girl friend. Then I seemed to go for the wrong sort of women, which lead to sexual experience, but not the sort of woman I wanted to settle down with. Why am I telling you all this?" smiled Don ruefully, suddenly realising that they had digressed from the actual area he wanted to discuss.

"Play me some more Dowland," he demanded, so he could think of the next move and take the conversation away from his own early student memories.

Spencer positioned the lute once more and the room was filled with a brief piece of less than 2 minutes but it was vibrant and captured the player's mood. Spencer was pleased that he had succeeded in getting Don to reveal far more about his own experiences that he had probably anticipated in sharing.

"That was Lord Strange's March," Spencer added with out looking up and then suddenly began a longer more complex piece, 'Fantasie no.1'.

Don sat back and let the wonderful music entertain him. He was well aware that Spencer had yet again managed to take a certain amount of control over the session and he would have to plunge ahead in a new direction when Reid had finished playing.

"Beautiful," Don said, genuinely appreciating the man's skill.

Spencer smiled gently, totally relaxed in this room for the first time that week.

But before Spencer could say anything, or even begin his playing once more, Don suddenly asked, "How are your cravings for the Dilaudid?"

Spencer was caught off his guard and blinked at the unexpected question.

"I do get the odd feeling for it, especially with the stressful memories I've had to revisit these past few days, but I can't really call it a craving…I think it's me just wanting to escape and that's why Tobias gave me it. He had used the drugs to escape from the world that he lived with his father."

"You asked Hotch for the bottles you took from Tobias?" Don asked, wanting to hear his patient's reasoning behind the action.

"I wanted the hospital to know what was given to me and then I wanted the bottles as a reminder. I mean, I knew Hotch would return the bottles empty but I wanted to test myself with the detox. I wanted to show to myself that I was strong enough not to want to fill them with the real stuff. Tobias always had the bottles in his pocket, it was his escape from reality, I want them as my reminder that I don't want that escape, that I want my mind to be unclouded by any drug." Spencer stated as clearly as possible, aware that the request must have sounded rather odd, even to his boss, but Hotch played along not wanting to further distress his young agent.

"You don't drink alcohol?" asked Don, interested in this explanation.

"I do drink the odd glass of wine with a meal. I'll have the occasional glass of whiskey, but I prefer brandy, but again only a small glass. I'm not very fond of beer. I don't like to loose control. I don't like the thought of drugs or drinking to excess… again it's a control thing. I don't think I'm a control freak but I saw what power drugs could have in altering a state of mind with my Mom. If I could persuade her to take her medication, the effect could be quite dramatic. As a student I saw the effect of drink and drugs," explained the young man, who began to pluck once more at the strings.

"Have you ever been drunk?" asked Don, trying to understand how far the need for control really went in his life.

Spencer didn't stop the flow of haunting dance like Elizabethan music while he considered how far to answer that question, "Yes…you know as a student. When I lived with the Bishops, Dr. Bishop began to give me a small glass of wine if they opened a bottle with dinner. He always said that he wanted me to know the taste, so it wouldn't hold that forbidden mystique that some state laws gave to alcohol. I was grateful for the education…I mean he didn't do this until I was 15…My first taste was to celebrate my first degree and acceptance for a PhD in Mathematics. It was only a small glass but I was shown that moderate drinking could be a pleasure with a meal," Spencer carefully explained, and then seemed to concentrate on a particularly difficult passage of music, but Don was not going to let him avoid the original question.

"So what happened with the heavier drinking?" pressed Don.

"I did see the effects of binging …you know the wasted, hung over look on campus. The lecturers didn't seem to bother as long as you didn't turn up obviously drunk, but I saw how it made people vulnerable."

"Spencer when did you get drunk?" Don decided that the direct approach was needed and waited for a few moments, but a reply didn't seem to be forthcoming.

"It's embarrassing…something you did when you got to Harvard?" guessed Don.

"No…no it was Princeton, it was a friend who decided that I ought to celebrate my 21st." Spencer stopped playing and went quiet; the memory was one he'd like to forget and he was not sure he could retell it.

"We all have embarrassing student memories. I can assure you, I had some wild nights while a student. I never took drugs but I did drink too much on occasion and certainly ended up with too many one night stands," confessed Don, in the hope that talking man to man would help his patient open up.

"Steve knew I was a very moderate person, but he spiked the drink…I honestly can't remember the details of the party. Everyone, who was there, assured me that they had a great time and that I'd disappeared with my special birthday present pretty early on," replied Spencer reluctantly, and he could feel his face turning red with the memory.

"Did Steve hire a hooker?"

"No, but they had a certain reputation as being some what 'easy' on the campus," said Spencer delicately, but he looked into Don's calm blue eyes, they didn't seem at all perturbed or judgmental. Spencer was embarrassed, even if he was recalling an incident which was not of his making. The young man began to consider flight and retreating into more music.

"What happened?" Don continued to press wanting to get to the bottom of the reluctance. Spencer sensed his inquisitor was not going to let him avoid the memory, he took a deep breath, which to Don sounded like a sigh of capitulation.

"They were known as the Minnesota Twins…they really were, all legs and blonde and…actually to me they were like a couple of Barbie dolls," managed Spencer, and looked at the inquisitor to see if he understood. Don nodded and waited for more.

"They took me back to my room and stayed the night, but I quite honestly don't really remember the details other than waking up with a hell of a headache and in bed with the twins…we were all naked," he managed to hurriedly state.

"Well, they obviously enjoyed themselves, Spencer, so I would just put it down to a student experience and you shouldn't get upset about it," assured Don, but he knew there was more to this even as he said the words.

"Right, so I'm supposed to forget about it as a birthday prank," an annoyed Spencer said, his voice became higher in pitch with his agitation, "Well, it wasn't right. I would never have done that to a friend. I trusted Steve. I'd even confided to him that I was a virgin…You know, there had been the odd girlfriend, but bit of kissing and cuddling was as far as I got because I didn't like the way they jumped me…Women shouldn't behave like that," the young man fumbled on, revealing the deep hurt caused by a trusted friend.

"I'm sorry, Spencer, that's an awful memory for your 21st birthday. But the twins were willing participants, so you have nothing to blame yourself for. You like a woman to behave with more decorum?"

"Yes! But then that makes me sound terribly uptight about sex…I'm not. I mean I think that sex without a deeper relationship is just a physical release and it's rather shallow afterwards. I've had the odd one night stand and I don't like it. If I'm honest, the sexual release is pleasurable but afterwards I feel so lonely. What I want is a companion to share my off duty time with and take me away from the horrors of the job," he tried to explain.

"But you do attempt to meet women?"

"Oh, yeah, I do meet women occasionally, often they pick me up. Although, I've managed a few times to pluck up the courage to suggest a further meeting with the less assertive ones. But I must admit, if they suggest a bar…I'm put off. I don't think the type of person I want, as a long term companion, to be one who frequents bars…I'm old fashioned like that," he explained.

"Yeah, I understand, you don't normally hang out in bars yourself. To be honest, I never seriously looked upon any woman I picked up in a bar as a possible long term girlfriend," admitted Don, "I know we may be unjustly stereotyping those women who like bars, but with my mother's drinking and sexual habits…Well, to be honest, I just used them for some sex." Don brutally stated and then felt compelled to explain himself further.

"What I'm talking about here is me in my early 20's, you know, about your age. I was something of a ladies man and then I met Debbie and I had to prove to her that I wasn't this superficial jock. I've never looked at another woman since meeting her…she has given me my stable and loving family life and that is beyond price as far as I'm concerned."

"What matters is that you met and have been faithful to Debbie. I hope one day to find someone who would want that sort of commitment with me," replied Spencer evenly, appreciating the personal details Don was revealing.

"Look, it sounds as if the twins were in on it," Don reiterated, thinking that Reid still had some hang-ups over the incident. 

"Oh yeah, they told my that I was really good…I think they were probably humouring me. I really can't remember. I got quite worried because I'd no condoms and they said that they were on the pill but they were so …the only word for it is, promiscuous…I was worried about STDs. I eventually plucked up courage to be tested to make sure I'd not caught anything.

Don nodded with understanding; the damaged inflicted by a thoughtless Steve still obviously coloured Reid's memories, "So you've the type who ideally likes to get to know a woman before entering a sexual relationship?"

"Yes," Spencer said firmly, "I really don't like how women let men use them. I mean, there can't be that much satisfaction in just one night stands for either sex, I don't think it's just me. Morgan doesn't seem that happy, despite his bravado of the man about town, oozing confidence in the way that he flirts. I don't even like the way he flirts with Garcia. They probably both just see it as a bit of fun considering some of the cases we get, or at least I hope they do. But to me, it just demeans Garcia. She's a very sensitive woman and I think she gets her feelings hurt quite a lot, but she'd never talk to us about really personal matters. We're all the same; the whole team is keeping up appearances, not wanting anyone to delve too deeply into our off duty lives."

"Yes, I think you're right there, me included, but I'm opening up some of my memories willingly to help you come to terms with your own," agreed Don, not really surprised by the youthful memories. However, Spencer had been brought up with a Mom who liked the idea of 'courtly love' and added to that the fact, Spencer liked to feel his mind in control of the reality around him. It was all understandable especially having a Mom whose mind was out of control. Overall, Spencer didn't fit in to the usual image of the young man gaining experience of his world.

Don let the man find comfort in the lute for a few minutes. The psychiatrist felt sure that the need to be aware of the world around him meant that Spencer would not willingly succumb to alcohol or drug abuse. However, the lack of early maternal love was the basis for his insecurities, which had been further compounded by his Dad leaving. Don mentally sighed; the harm selfish parents did to their young children. He was relieved that his daughters were as maternal as her mother. However, his girls were also career minded but they had seen their own mother continue her career. Debbie had returned to part time nursing duties when their youngest was 13. She enjoyed the work and was now working at a local hospice; it was only 2 days a week and allowed Debbie to explore her other interests outside of nursing.

Spencer stopped the flow of music and went to get some more coffee. He sat down once more and reached for a cookie.

"You seem very quiet?" he suddenly asked Don, fixing him with a searching gaze as he absently munched. Don was shook out of his introspection. He swore silently at his own incompetence with this patient's ability to manipulate the situation. Spencer Reid could appear so totally disarming with those open boyish looks. Women wanted to mother him and men wanted to mentor him, to be a substitute father…but Reid was dangerous, he had an exceptional mind and because of it, he was his own worst enemy.

Don smiled, "I was lost in the music thinking about my own good fortune despite my rocky beginnings. I was lucky, when I was around your age my mentor…I'll call him Joseph, sat me down and made me think about what I was doing to myself. Telling me firmly that I was going to end up just like my selfish, drunken, womanising father if I didn't take control of myself. Furthermore, he really reached me when he said that with that sort of reputation I wouldn't get a decent position in psychiatry. Joseph didn't pull his punches, I'm very grateful for the firm guidance he gave me at just the right time...I really was a conceited little prick who thought I was god's gift to women." Don chuckled at the surprise that flashed in the expressive brown eyes opposite him.

"I'm not kidding, Spencer, you would probably have given me a wide berth in those days as you'd have seen me as the hedonistic leader of the pack in my year at Med. School."

"Wow, you certainly calmed down …Was this when you met Debbie?"

"About 6 months after Joseph had hauled me over the coals for my wild partying, he'd threatened to have me thrown out…I cared about my career so I took to heart his attempts to curb my excesses. He actually introduced me to Debbie, she was neo-natal nurse in those days, and they had a new mother showing the early signs of post-natal depression…so I met her on the job." Don recalled; he shook his head and laughed to himself at the memory.

"Gideon has been a very gentle mentor to me, right from when we first met. I guess I let him be like a substitute father, especially when I heard on the rumour mill that he was estranged from his own son. Things changed after the Boston bomb with his depression and PTSD following it, but he was still there in the background when he returned to fieldwork under Hotch. I think he has just gradually stepped further back as I gradually gained more confidence and learnt from the rest of the team. I actually like working along side Hotch; he's so different from Gideon, very correct, rarely shows his emotions on the job but he's actually a very sensitive man and does have a dry sense of humour. You know he spent hours with me at the firing range helping me with my firearms test. I was awful and I did fail it that time. However, he totally believed in me when we were in a hostage situation and I had to make the one shot count."

"Philip Dowd was your first kill?" Don asked, hoping he'd remembered correctly the details in Reid's file.

"Yeah, I've never failed a firearms test since…it was just me over analysing all the 'what ifs' connected with the possibility of having to shoot someone," Spencer clarified, remembering the trust that Hotch had displayed in his abilities.

"What did Gideon say about it?" asked Don, wondering how Gideon handled Spencer following his first shoot that ended in a kill. There was always a psych follow up to any shooting, but he remembered that Gideon had made no actual personal comment in his own report of the team's performance. Whereas, Agent Hotchner had been very careful to point out that despite the stressful situation, the young agent had played along with his ruse and grabbed his spare gun, at his ankle, in order to kill Dowd. He had been in no doubt that it would have been a bloodbath had the SWAT team entered the Emergency Room area where they were being held.

"Gideon came and sat with me on the plane journey home and asked me how I felt. He then told me that although I felt nothing at that time, I would and then I was to remember that I'd done what was necessary to save peoples' lives and that he was proud of me. He rarely praised like that, it meant a lot to me at the time."

"And now?"

"I still value Gideon's comments but…" Spencer stopped wondering how to express his present feelings, he looked up and met Don's clear baby blue eyes, calmly waiting for him to continue, "Gideon has been more distant this year, I began to notice that he would go a bit quiet if I questioned him during a case. It happened before the Garner case, when we were trying to track that serial killer, Mark Gregory, who was abducting and killing women. We went to interview the father of the suspect and Gideon really was …well I questioned his attitude towards the man because it was not the father who was the murderer but Gideon treated him as if it was! Gideon didn't like it that I would challenge him over that. Then there was the Garner case, since the sanctuary of his cabin had been invaded, he's been different. It's like he's been distancing himself from the team, afraid to get close to us. I suppose that could be the after effects of loosing his people in Boston and then Elle got shot. He's made some decisions that I was not happy with but as the youngest it's not my place to criticise," he suddenly finished and felt something of a traitor for even raising these matters about a senior BAU agent.

"Gideon is not infallible; we all have our own flaws. You've every right to question some of his actions. He may be a senior agent but it doesn't mean he's god," said Don, who was not one of Gideon's unquestioning fans, "You're his very able student but student's grow up and get pushed out of the comfort zone of the nest. You would not be with Hotch's team unless he wanted you there. Hotch is a very fine judge of people and he wants you back when you're ready. That has nothing to do with Gideon. Gideon has made himself a reputation over the years but just remember that he is human too."

"I know but I don't think he'll confide in me when his personal limits are reached, so I'll not be able to give back some of the support he's given me since joining the Bureau. Like I said, he's been retreating more into himself since Boston and again after the Garner case," replied Reid in a quiet serious tone.

Don observed then not the youthful agent, but the man who was far too old for his years. He recalled an earlier conversation where he'd remarked about having a feeling of being both young and ancient. Don was now witnessing the man's compassion, way beyond his years but that did not make it less genuine.

"Perhaps that's because Gideon will only ever see you has his protégé and not has an equal, or more importantly as a friend," replied Don, thinking that the older man was going to miss the genius when he eventually left the BAU.

"Yeah, you're probably right," said Spencer philosophically, "I'll just have to let him continue to think he's improving my chess," he added with a mischievous smile.

""What?" asked Don, raising a quizzical eyebrow at this cast off remark.

Spencer Reid leaned back on the couch and stretched out his long thin legs, a smile lit up the youthful face, "Gideon thinks I can't play chess but I just let him believe that, I use to do it when I was younger. You know it made me appear more human if the high school kids thought they could beat the little genius…probably saved me from a few physical beatings along the way. Did you know that it's quite hard to work out your opponent's strategy and then deliberately loose convincingly. My mentor at Harvard worked out what I was doing immediately, because he did the same thing himself. I was never the sort of student to show off my intellect, certainly not in a state school…it was always met with some form of bullying. Chris, at Harvard, was a grand master and I used to genuinely beat him. The last time I saw him, just before Christmas, Chris asked me if Gideon had seen through me yet. I play on the internet with players far more skilled than Gideon, or Emily for that matter."

"So you think Gideon under estimates you?"

"Sometimes…but then I take the line of least resistance and let him see only what he wants to see. You know, I remember soon after he'd returned to the BAU, he told me to think 'out side the box'! Jeez, Don…I've been thinking outside the box for as long as I can remember! My problem is trying to understand those who think inside the box so I don't scare them!"

Don stared at his patient, momentarily stunned by this admission. This was not a conceited man but a genius who lived and worked among ordinary people. It had been ordinary people, who as children, had singled him out for bullying because he was different and had a mentally sick mother to add to his problems of acceptance. Reid was an expert at hiding who he really was…he'd even fooled his fellow profilers…or had he? He was a superb manipulator, which is why Max warned all those who assessed Reid when agents had their mandatory psych evaluations.

"Do you think you fool Hotch?" Don challenged his patient.

"Hotch is very clever, very difficult to read," confessed Reid, "But I think Hotch suspects that I play along with Gideon's view of me. Hotch treats me more as an equal when we're partnered together so I respond to that. I think Hotch respects Gideon, but there are times when Gideon's attitude can make life difficult for Hotch as the team leader," said the young agent thoughtfully.

There was a knock on the door and Don felt annoyed by the interruption, "Come!" he shouted, letting some of his irritation seep into the tone.

"Sorry to disturb you, Don, but you have your boss here, needs to speak to you urgently," said Dr Cordle, looking apprehensively at the psychiatrist, "He's in the main office,"

"Thank you. I'm sorry, Spencer, I've no idea what Max is doing here. Why don't you relax with the lute a bit," said Don, feeling both annoyed and intrigued. However, it had to be of some importance for Max to come personally rather than to call him on his cell.

Spencer picked up his lute once more and slipped into the comfort of music. As he played he thought about the women who had briefly touched his life so far. He was used quite often as a confidante, they just found it easy to talk to him because he was so unthreatening; 'refreshingly unmacho' was how Holly had labelled him. Holly had been his first real girlfriend at Harvard. It didn't last very long. He'd made the mistake of telling his Mom about her on his visit to the Bennington Sanatorium and she'd reacted very badly. He vowed never to reveal any girlfriend to his mother again as she had turned irrationally possessive. Spencer had told Holly about his Mom and she backed off a little. It had been nice to have someone to share some of his time with, but it quickly faded.

A few women students liked to be seen in his company, just for the kudos of being seen in the company of a genius. He soon got bored with these hangers on and he could easily get rid of them by being extra intense over the explanation of some obscure fact. He also made some nice friends who he liked because they treated him like a brother. It suited them to have the protection of a man, and he was happy to be seen in the company of a woman who he felt wasn't going to jump him.

Since being at Quantico, he was in a strange world of intelligent and usually very confident men and women, many of whom faced dangerous situations in the course of their duties. Reid understood the need just to have some company in bed when you worked in such emotionally charged circumstances. However, as he'd explained to Don, for himself, one nightstands just made him feel even lonelier as the woman disappeared back into the crowd. There had been a couple of women who had lasted a few dates, but the demands of the job put enormous strains on any relationship so these had come to nothing in the end. To date, his longest girlfriend had been Holly. He heard from old student acquaintances who occasionally e-mailed, that Holly was now married to a Wall Street trader and lived in an expensive but tiny apartment in Manhattan.

He hugged the lute closer, it was an unconscious act, he was grateful for the valuable lesson his father had given him: there was beauty and solace in the playing of an instrument. Spencer began to play a selection of Renaissance music from Lord Herbert of Cherbury's Lute Book; it was perfect for this 10 course lute. It was true; he had problems arising from early childhood. Attachment Disorder, he wondered if his fellow profilers had also come to that conclusion. There was supposed to be a moratorium on profiling each other, but in his mind he had profiled them and almost any other person he met because it was an unconscious process now.

The lack of maternal love was at the bottom of his insecurities, that and his Dad leaving...not wanting him either. That had hurt so much, Spencer had cried himself to sleep for months, but he didn't return despite all his childish prayers. He had been abandoned to a life with a crazy Mom, who hadn't wanted him in the first place. None of it was his fault…but he couldn't believe that people could like him, Spencer, for himself. Perhaps they just wanted to use his mind or be seen in his company to bask in his genius status.

He was so insecure, even about his work. It was pathetic how he longed to hear Gideon praise him, which he rarely did. Hotch had a different manner; he'd praise the whole team if they had a good outcome on a case, but then Hotch was a natural leader of men and recognised that even his team needed to know that their work was appreciated.

He heard the door open, but he concentrated on playing the Fantasia by Hely.

"Superb! Cuthbert Hely?" Arthur's, deep voice asked as he finished playing.

Spencer looked up, totally surprised at Arthur's appearance, "Is Don all right?" he was genuinely concerned and thought it odd that Max had personally called to speak to him. In most Bureau departments, an unexpected personal visitation usually meant something was wrong. Spencer had sensed Don's bewilderment and Dr. George's appearance, as messenger boy, was very unusual.

" Don's wife has just been rushed to hospital with a suspected coronary, Max came to take him to the hospital," Arthur quietly explained, but he couldn't keep the concern out of his voice. Spencer felt unsettled and hoped all would be well for Debbie and Don.

"Do you want to talk or play?" the psychologist asked the thoughtful patient.

Reid looked up, "I feel I've got to know Don over the past two days, I…" he sought for the right words but failed, as emotions bubbled up, wondering about the depth of love that Don had revealed about his marriage, "I hope Debbie's going to be ok. He's talked about her quite a bit really to show me how he's managed to make a good marriage despite attachment disorder."

"Max promised he'd call me as soon as he knew anything," Arthur reassured, but he felt Spencer was responding well, not in a detached manner and that was all a very good sign. Reid had been through a traumatic ordeal and PTSD could sometimes manifest symptoms of unnatural detachment over emotional situations. Within a family, it could be very distressing for relatives to feel pushed away, or a family member be seen as unresponsive to an emotional incident.

"I don't really want to talk for the moment," Spencer quietly asserted, "Can I play you some Dowland?"

Arthur nodded and sat back on the opposite couch. The beautiful flowing music filled the room and allowed both men to keep their own prayers to themselves.

End of Chapter 7


	8. Chapter 8

**The In Between Times: Chapter 8**

**By Helena Fallon**

**Reference is made to the 'Criminal Minds' episode, **_**Revelations.**_

**The music of John Dowland (1563-1626) specifically**:-

_**Battle Galliard**_

_**Forlorn Hope Fancy**_

'**_Flow my tears' from The Second Book of Songs, 1600, No.2_**

'_**Come Again' from The First Book of Songs, 1597, No.17**_

'_**In Darkness let me dwell' from A Musicall Banquett, 1610, No.10**_

'_**Have you seen the bright lily grow' **_**music by Robert Johnson (1583-1633), ****lyrics by Ben Jonson**

The two psychologists sat on opposite brown leather couches and quietly thought about Don and Debbie. Spencer let his fingers play whatever music came to him. They didn't speak; they shared the companionable musical interlude, which was far more expressive of their emotions at that point in time than any words could have captured. Time didn't have a place in this room, but unfortunately the world of the Clinic would force the occupants to take notice of its presence. Over an hour after Don's departure, the knock on the door put a stop to the music and their individual reflections.

Arthur had accepted Julian's interruption with good grace but he didn't seem to be able to rustle up his usual enthusiasm for Hilary's cooking. Neither man really registered the taste of the red peppers and feta cheese flan with accompanying side salad.

"Goodness, Arthur, are you feeling well?" their waitress enquired with genuine concern for the psych with whom she usually had quite a chirpy banter. She placed their plates on to her tray.

Arthur looked up with a weary smile, "Friend of ours has just had to rush to hospital because his wife has suffered a coronary…guess neither of us feel like being here at the moment, but if Spencer doesn't make an appearance he'll be in trouble…."

"Mmm…" Christine was thoughtful, and then chose her words carefully, "It's suet pudding with custard today but perhaps you'd like to pass it over in favour of a walk before that rain cloud drops its load."

Spencer turned and looked out of the window and watched the ominous darkness that was creeping across the sky towards the Clinic.

"Very good idea, Christine. Has Hilary made any muffins today?" asked Arthur hopefully.

"I'll see that some are put in your consulting room when they come out of the oven," assured Christine with a quiet tone of compassion to her voice.

The two men rose in silence and went to find coats. Arthur let Spencer take the lead so he could go a route that he was comfortable with. Spencer found that he was taking the psychologist to the herb garden with out thinking of an obvious destination. They found a seat, but a different one from the last time they had visited this area. The sky was getting darker and the air held the promise of rain.

"You feeling OK?" Arthur asked Spencer who seemed very subdued.

"I'm just concerned for Don and Debbie…I was beginning to trust Don and he was breaking all the rules in the book to reach me on a personal level," said Spencer and then he thought that may have sounded unfair towards Arthur, "I…I didn't mean to sound critical of your methods…"

"No offence taken, Spencer," Arthur's deep voice assured the younger man, "We had special orders from Max to go all out to help you. Max is a very clever and caring person. He knew that you didn't respond well to his presence, so he chose the people who he thought would be the best to help you. That's all we want to do as a team…just help you come to terms with your childhood so the memories Hankel opened up don't destroy your potential."

"Yeah, I know, this week has been very emotional for me and now this...I thought I was doing really well with Don, I was talking to him in a way I've never spoken before. Sorry, that sounds awful…You've never confronted me on issues the way Don did…" Spencer tried to clarify and fumbled to a stop.

Arthur gave a rueful chuckle, "Well your usual mandatory psych evaluations, even the one after your first killing, were not like the incident that brought you here. Don was chosen because he too had experienced attachment disorder but hasn't let it destroy his life. That is what we hope to do for you…show you that you are more than your childhood experiences and that you are a very strong individual… not weak, you kept muttering that in your sleep while in hospital back in Georgia."

"Yeah, I'm not weak…I managed to cope living with a mother who at times I was scared of…and more than once feared for my life…The first time was when she took a hammer to my violin and then locked me in the dark basement…did Don tell you?"

"Yes, but didn't say anything about other times?"

"Oh, it was like the first time, she'd be totally in her own world and not taking her medication…anything could annoy her, but I usually ended up in the dark basement…I was scared of the dark, but at least she wasn't there, and sometimes I even fumbled around and found one of my hidden torches, although I had to be careful over those…She always thought I was in league with the government and watching her…it was the bulbs in them…I hope I never become like that."

"You're not going to," Arthur firmly stated, "The Bureau investigated your background very carefully and your preliminary psych evaluations were filmed and discussed before we offered you a place, " confided Arthur.

Spencer turned and looked at him in surprise, but it did make sense considering his background that the Bureau didn't want to risk a mentally unstable person in their ranks.

"You hadn't thought about it from that angle had you?" countered Arthur, with a gentle smile touching his lips at the surprised look on the patient's face.

"I didn't think that they'd film an evaluation like that," admitted Spencer, now thinking how trusting he had been, probably because Gideon had encouraged him to apply and steered him through the procedure.

"Spencer you were only 21, a genius and from a broken home and your mother's mental health was on record. But then Don's told you about what the Bureau found out about her student years?"

"Yeah, pretty wild…Does the Bureau film all new candidates?" the younger man, pressed trying to see where his treatment fitted in with other new recruits.

"Only when a case is not clear cut…like I said, you were under age and with exceptional ability and Gideon wanted to train you up. Max wanted to be sure that you would be able to cope with the pressures that go with profiling. Look, I can tell you that your subsequent evaluations have not, to my knowledge, been filmed. But if it really worries you I'll ask Max about it…he's pretty straight forward and wouldn't lie over this."

Spencer was quiet, mulling over this offer. It really shouldn't matter that much now considering that he'd been accepted and had worked well within the Bureau for 5 years before this present problem.

Arthur eyed the young patient with concern, he was obviously feeling insecure and Don's departure had only heightened his feelings of inadequacy.

"Spencer, the BAU want you back when you're ready. Every week Hotch asks after you, then there is Gideon's own check with Max. No one blames you for what happened on the Hankel case…agents have to make decisions out in the field and sometimes they don't know how the cards are going to fall. No one knew that Tobias Hankel had the mental problems he had…that he was going to kidnap you, drug you and torture you. No one knows if, or when, they are going to meet their personal limits…you were forced to meet yours as a 26 year old. It was unlucky…some agents go through their entire careers and are never really challenged in the way you have been. But Hankel has not broken you. You had a gun to your head, he played Russian Roulette with you and he drugged you, but you still managed to tell the team where you were…You were not weak, in fact the whole of the mental health team think you are an incredibly strong individual."

Spencer wanted to believe the words, but doubt just hung in the background ready to pounce and undo all the good that had been achieved over the past few days.

"Come on, speak to me, " urged Arthur trying to assess the patient's present mood.

"I'm just feeling some self doubt…I know that the Bureau wouldn't have recruited me unless I was good enough but my world has been shaken up with Hankel and I just have these times of…" Spencer sought for the words to best describe his emptiness and self doubt, "I guess, I…I just feel a failure at the moment."

"You're not a failure, Spencer. Whatever gives you that idea?" Arthur delved, sensing depression looming, ready to slip into the emptiness created by not being back at work or with a caring lover to go home to.

"I just can't see a way out of here…I've been in this artificial world for 5 weeks now but would I be able to cope on my own back in my apartment…What if I wake up screaming with a nightmare, like I have here. Will I ever have a normal life again…well, what I call normal? I liked my work, but will I be able to still be good at it?" Spencer replied allowing the doubts to flow freely, but on hearing them voiced felt they sounded pathetic: he was strong enough to cope...after coping with his Mom, he could cope with anything.

Spencer shook his head as if to try and dispel the negative thoughts, "Sorry, Arthur, I guess I'm more fragile with the PTSD,"

"It's one of the many symptoms, but you really are doing very well and we'll not let you go home until we think you can cope and even then you'll always have one of us on the end of a phone," Arthur calmly asserted.

Arthur looked up at the darkness that had settled above them, the air felt clinging like a wet blanket, "Come on lets go back before we get caught in a cloud burst," advised the older man, rising and turning to wait for his patient.

Reid felt cold and afraid. The day had started so well and he had thought he was making great strides but now, as he walked briskly back towards the Clinic, he felt trapped by the dark thoughts hiding on the edge of his consciousness. He would not want to sleep tonight fearing these dark demons might slip out to torment that subconscious time.

They reached the final path just as the first drops began to fall. It was not a gentle soothing rain but one that felt dagger like, as the ice-cold drops pierced the skin with an unexpected force. Both men were grateful to pass through the outer door and discarded their coats.

Arthur switched on the light as they walked into their usual consult room. The colours of cream and magenta were warm and easy on the senses, but this afternoon they did not seem to be able to lift Spencer's troubled mood. Arthur busied himself in the kitchenette and Spencer made the excuse to escape to the bathroom. He looked at his reflection in the mirror as he washed his hands, Spencer didn't look as thin as when he first arrived here but he was still underweight. As he looked in the mirror, large haunted eyes stared back to mock him; he had felt better this morning. How fragile his self was for all of the good work to disappear so quickly; only a few hours ago Don had been sitting with him sharing confidences.

Spencer dried his hands carefully, observing how large and skeletal they looked poking out at the end of his beige cable knit jumper. Reid had never been over weight, he had always been slender, well skinny and tall in his age group. Spencer usually had a good appetite, but since his kidnap he'd lost his desire for food. The menu was always tempting here but he ate mechanically, knowing that if he didn't then they would insist on even higher protein meals and an increased frequency, following the little and often rule to help him keep things down. Spencer sighed; he couldn't delay returning to the room any longer, and reached for the door handle.

"No, that's fine, no problem I'll see to that. I'll call you tonight, bye," said Arthur into his cell. He turned it off and slipped the tiny device into his trouser pocket.

"We've got muffins!" he smiled triumphantly, "We do have something to celebrate," he added looking at Spencer's apprehension.

"Was that Don or Max?"

"Max, like he promised. He stayed with Don until Don's daughters could gather to be with their father. It was a mild coronary, but she took ill at work so they acted quickly. Unfortunately, post menopausal women are more prone to heart problems than people generally realise,"

"So they'll be keeping an eye on her from now on. I guess that's a good thing and it's mild and not as traumatic as these things can sometimes be," added Spencer.

"You've seen someone have a coronary?" asked Arthur, alert to the subtle change in tone that suggested experience.

"Yes, when I was at Harvard, one of the Physics lecturers, he was very overweight, just collapsed in pain and difficulty with breathing. He ended up having a by-pass and a very strict diet that drastically cut back on his drinking. We didn't recognise him when he returned 4 months later, but it shook him up and he was much more careful after that."

Arthur looked guiltily down at the plate of assorted muffins Hilary had made. "We'd better eat them as we skipped dessert, besides you told me that you're very active with your kids," said Spencer with understanding.

"Oh yes, we don't want Hilary marching in here demanding what's wrong with her cooking and why aren't you eating!" he looked accusingly at his too thin companion, "She really had a few words with Don after you'd been sick. Hilary's very protective when it comes to her patients," Arthur added, and smiled at the big eyes that grew even larger with this extra piece of information.

"Thanks for the coffee," Spencer wrapped his bony hands around the white mug, grateful for the warmth.

"You OK?" Arthur asked with concern, Spencer had shown no signs of picking up his lute and it worried him.

"I got cold, my fingers need to warm up," he said, sipping the hot sweet coffee while Arthur chose a chocolate muffin to bite into.

"Don's got compassionate leave to be with Debbie for a few days so you're stuck with me. You can have someone else come to replace Don if you like,"

Spencer thought about the offer but he didn't want anyone else. He was unsettled enough after this morning and then internally admonished himself for being like a spoilt child for making the situation seem to revolve around his problems.

"No, I like talking to you, I trust you as much as Don…I just hope Debbie is allowed home soon and everything becomes as normal as possible for them,"

Arthur smiled, it was a good sign that Spencer could still express compassion, "Just remember, we are just working together to get you well. Have a muffin or two…"

Spencer did as he was told and listened to the rain thrash against the windows.

"Glad I'm not out in that!" remarked the older psychologist as he drank his coffee, all the time quietly trying to read his patient's mood.

Spencer finished a second chocolate muffin and wiped his hands absently on his trousers before he reached for his lute. The music of John Dowland flowed from his fingers but then, to Arthur's surprise after some 4 tunes, Spencer Reid suddenly began to sing with a haunting tenor voice, 'Flow my tears' from the Second Book of Songs. Arthur was transfixed by the Elizabethan song. But before he had time to think of a comment, Spencer had changed the mood to a less depressing song, 'Have you seen the bright lily grow'.

"That was one of my Mom's favourites, but when I attend the Dowland Society I play more than I sing, this is the 'Battle Galliard' which is a popular request."

The room was filled with a sprightly tune and Arthur sat back and enjoyed the recital totally unlike the introspective music of the morning. For the next hour, the older man was treated to a hidden side of his patient, a personal recital, as he would have given the patrons of the Dowland Society. Here were the songs of love and loss that an Elizabethan society would be well acquainted with and summed up their fragile hold on life. The people of the Elizabethan times knew how easily fate could snuff out a happy marriage with death in childbirth or a fever from influenza even if a person did not experience the violence of war. But the raw emotions of the human existence of over 400 years ago were just as relevant today. The loss of love and the depths of despair that could visit one's life was captured in the relatively brief musical piece; 'Forlorn Hope Fancy', which Spencer played with such passion that Arthur felt tears forming. But then suddenly, the musician sang the wonderful "Come Again" and broke the depression with this well known love song of the period.

Spencer looked up and grinned at the man opposite, "Elliot is a relation?" he suddenly asked, surprising the other man with the question but then he realised the significance.

"My eldest son," Arthur confirmed.

"He plays the viol well, do they practice a lot?"

"That group of his are always in the den practising…So you must be the Spencer they sometimes rave about and feel honoured to play with?"

"Celia does all the talking of the viol group, but I noticed that the true leader is Elliot!"

"Oh yeah, Celia is the great publicist, thinks a lot of herself" remarked Arthur, he was thinking of adding a little more to this conversation but Spencer leapt in.

"My last song before I stop," Spencer said, and the room was plunged into the dark sentiments of 'In darkness let me dwell'

_In darkness let me dwell,_

_The ground shall Sorrow be,_

_The roof Despair to bar,_

_All cheerful light from me,_

_The walls of marble black_

_That moisten'd still shall weep_

_My music hellish jarring sounds_

_To banish friendly sleep._

_Thus wedded to my woes_

_And bedded to my tomb,_

_O let me living die,_

_Till death do come._

The room echoed with the depression of that song, the relentless hard fall of the rain against the panes punctuated the memories of the words, neither man spoke. The emotions of the past hour had swung between joy and sorrow and those final words worried the experienced psychologist. The lute was a window to the inner soul of Spencer Reid and his present mood had to be watched to catch him before he plunged into a deep depression. Arthur wished Don could be with him, but this crisis was inevitable and it was best faced now than Spencer hiding his mood in order to escape the confines of the Clinic.

The young man had put down his lute and stared down at the magenta carpet, perhaps he shouldn't have sung that but it was what his heart wanted to voice. Dowland had always had the ability to capture his moods and he knew that he's been fighting this one for some weeks. He felt he couldn't keep it pushed back anymore; it had grown like a tumour from a simple cluster of cells to a mass now pushing, pressing, distorting and could no longer be ignored or denied.

"We reached the darkest memories but also broke down your defences against the depression you've been trying to contain since the de-tox," Arthur gently stated.

Spencer didn't look at Arthur but hunched himself up, to draw as much of himself closer to his body, as if to prevent himself physically falling into pieces. He nodded to Arthur's assessment; as a psychologist part of him knew what was happening but the very hurt part of Spencer tried to hide under the scrutiny.

"Promise me you won't let them give me anti depressants…I don't want them because of the side effects…Please Arthur, you know that this was inevitable and all the staff have been keeping a close eye for the point of tumbling into the bottomless pit..."

"It's not bottomless and you've come a long way this week, we're not going to leave you swinging holding on to a slippery rope. You're not going to plunge anywhere. We're here ready to catch you and with your personality it's best to be with you and face the bleakness together, rather than blur your memories with drugs. You like to feel in control and if we give you drugs your sense of reality will be distorted and your mind will fight against that anyway and just create more problems." Arthur reassured and knew that the next few days would either break or make their genius agent.

"I thought I was really doing very well …talking about what it was really like at home, you know, why I couldn't tell anyone at school," stated the young man earnestly looking into Arthur's steady gaze for reassurance.

"Yes," replied Arthur gently, "Don always called me each evening to keep me in the loop. You've always been able to talk about the bullying at school because it's quite acceptable. No, that's the wrong word…it's not acceptable, but it's quite a common occurrence so you felt comfortable sharing that experience. However, telling the truth about living with a mentally ill mother who physically, mentally and emotionally abused you is another matter."

"I was afraid that I'd be taken into care…my Mom was all I had…and still have as family," the patient said in a quiet distant tone of voice.

"That's not quite true, Spencer, as an adult you do have people who care a lot about what happens to you…There are your friends and often, because we choose them, they become closer than family. This is especially true when that person has experienced attachment disorder. Who is your closest friend?"

"What at work, or in my off duty world?" Spencer asked for clarification, and Arthur mentally noted that the patient's very analytical mind was still working on some level.

"You compartmentalise your friends?" asked Arthur, fascinated by this piece of information.

"I spend most of my time with the team because it's the nature of the job so they are colleagues who are like friends. But my friends from my student days, and the few people I've met outside Quantico, are different. They don't belong to that artificial world of being thrown together for a common purpose; when you have to trust your team member professionally because your life can depend on it," answered Spencer, in a detached, almost lecturing, manner.

"Ok, so who is the person, if you were in trouble, would you contact outside of work colleagues?"

"Dr. Bishop," Spencer found himself saying without hesitation, "Chris, that's Prof. Donovan, he was my mentor at Princeton. There's Ethan, he's a jazz musician, we both applied for the FBI, but he dropped out after the first day. Then there's Willard, he's a friend from my Harvard days and is now working as a Physicist in Oxford and I have another friend, Milly, who's a doctor in Maine, and married to a dentist. I keep in touch with people via the internet"

Arthur mentally noted that these all seemed to be physically distant, "You have no close friends nearby?"

"No, I have acquaintances but not people I would call upon for help," he admitted, and then felt he had to qualify the impression he was giving, "It takes me time to trust people because of the early bullying issues and, of course, attachment disorder makes you wary…I think people are going to let me down so I watch them very carefully before letting them get close to me….it avoids disappointment later."

Arthur nodded and wondered how they were going to get this man on the social map with the disadvantages of his attachment disorder and the demands of the job.

"Which of your colleagues do you consider friends?"

"On one level I suppose they all are to varying degrees. Gideon is a mentor even if , because of his own problems, he has stepped back a little. Hotch is my immediate boss. I like him as a person and I trust him, but I don't think he sees me as a friend…I'm just the youngest of the team. Emily is the newest, so I don't really know her. I like J.J., but not in a romantic way…I know she has a boyfriend she keeps very quiet about. J.J. is a fellow sensitive and it's calming to have her work near me. Morgan appears to offer friendship, but outside the job, we don't really have much in common.

Garcia is special, she's very intelligent, a larger than life lady, who doesn't quite fit in but understands a lot about people. She's very sensitive, comfort eats and I think she understands loneliness despite her apparent extrovert displays. I like Garcia…she's the big sister I never had. She has been known to drag me out if I was getting too introspective."

"But you didn't want any contact with them while on sick leave?" asked Arthur, once more checking to see if the patient's present mood had altered his wishes over this.

"No," he firmly replied, "They belong to my normal world…I want one day to be able to return to my work, but I don't want them to see me like this…they will only worry and they should be focusing on whatever case they have at the moment."

Arthur nodded, pleased in the consistency of the reply and the reasoning behind it. Despite the mood swings, and the definite move towards a more obvious open depression, Spencer was still coherent in his thinking and that would help to reason with him over the next few days.

"If you had to spend a week in a cabin on a desert island, which one would you choose to be there with you?"

"Work or off duty?" Spencer shot back.

"Both examples," suggested the psychologist.

"OK… Dr. Bishop or Hotch, because they would both be sensible and interesting companions and the time would pass quickly,"

Arthur smiled at the choices. Both men and he'd chosen Hotch over Gideon, now that was interesting.

"Why Hotch and not Gideon?"

Spencer was silent for a few minutes but looked Arthur straight in the eyes when he delivered his answer, "Hotch treats me more as an equal and I think he has a more balanced life because he seems to have a happy marriage but he doesn't talk about it. There's just the quiet contentment that he has about knowing that he goes home to something special. I've watched how he always tries to get all the admin out of the way while on the plane or before going home. It's as if he's trained himself to switch off from the job when he leaves the office. I've worked alongside him and had some very interesting conversations with him. Hotch is very intelligent and widely read but every inch in charge when it comes to leading the team.

Gideon is a mentor but he also has his own problems and personality flaws. He can be totally focused on a case to the point of rudeness. At times, he only sees what he wants to see, especially where I'm concerned. I've been useful, someone for him to guide in a way he has not been able to respond with his own son. I'm not like Stephen, I think that father and son have had their disagreements in the past and there's still a rift. I'm less confrontational, because he's not my father, and my experience of appeasing my Mom's moods. But still Gideon has not liked it when I have challenged him. I think that, along with the Boston bomb, the Garner case…I think he partly blamed himself for what happened to Elle, but he didn't reach out to her when she needed him. I tried, to but I was too young in her eyes to understand."

"Do you think Elle deliberately shot that suspect? Off the record, Spencer, this is just between you and me," Arthur assured and hoped the trust built over a few years of mandatory psych evaluations would remain and hold true in Spencer's depressive mood.

The young psychologist weighed up the question and the assurance.

"Yes, I think she genuinely believed he was guilty and wanted to save his future victims. That does not mean that I condone Elle's action but she was also having doubts about her position on the team…and that was even before the Garner case. Elle was resenting the lack of a personal life, and despite her commitment to the job, she felt that it was taking over too much of her. Getting shot made her question everything the BAU stood for and in the end chose to have a life outside it. Perhaps Tobias Hankel will lead me to question my place on the team as well…"

"You keep saying you want to return, but can you see a time when you wouldn't want to be with them?"

"The team is my normality. Elle was already questioning the team in relation to the sort of life she wanted before she got shot, but for me, I've never questioned it…It's the job I want to do."

"Perhaps there will be a time when you do question if it's the place you want to be. Don't be afraid of that question, you'll find your answer, and only you'll be able to answer that question. If you decide to do something else, then that's your right to decide, but do it with honour and don't leave under a cloud like Elle," counselled Arthur, aware of the implied criticism that the patient had voiced over his mentor's actions towards another agent.

"I heard that Elle told Hotch she blamed him for sending her home to get shot. Do you feel Hotch is in someway to blame for what happened to you and J.J. as he ordered you to go to see Hankel?"

"God, No! It was just a normal operational decision. We didn't know what we were going to stumble across…I don't blame Hotch or J.J. for that matter…it just happened and we couldn't have predicted that chain of events…"

Arthur felt assured that his patient still had a good hold on the facts of the case. However, he knew that Gideon blamed himself for putting the young agent into further danger by his actions during the Hankel case. Arthur had sat and listened to Gideon as he recalled telling Reid, via the laptop link that Hankel had set up, that Reid was not responsible for the couples' deaths and that he was stronger than Hankel. Gideon was then horrified when the message lead to further torment for the young man. If any one was the weak link in the team, it was Gideon…he wanted to mentor the genius, but he was not dealing with the emotional consequences that went with it. Reid was of a similar age to Gideon's own son, and although Max had cautioned Gideon over his mentoring, Gideon had dismissed the allegation that Reid was a substitute son.

"How do you feel towards Tobias Hankel?" Arthur asked, wondering if Reid's compassion extended to the killer.

"He was mentally ill. He'd had very unhappy childhood…he'd loved his mother but she'd left," Spencer suddenly stopped, "It's odd really, Tobias had been deserted by the parent he loved, like I was. I think his Mom ran off with another man…I don't think my Dad was having an affair. But Tobias ended up like me, living with a mentally ill parent and suffered unspeakable horrors because of it. Tobias tried to escape from his reality through drugs, whereas I just buried myself in learning. I thought, if I understood a problem then I'd always be able to fix it. Of course, that was a child's wishful thinking, there's a lot in this world that I'll never be able to fix. Tobias didn't understand when I pleaded with him that I didn't want his drugs, but in his eyes he was showing me kindness; he was reaching out to me to share the only comfort he'd known to escape his father. Tobias didn't try to fix things, he just felt trapped and overwhelmed by them.

When he was dying, the last thing he said to me was, 'Do you think I'll see my Mom again?' All I could reply was, 'I'm sorry'. Tobias loved her, but I don't love my Mom… The drugs he gave me made me remember the worst of those times and my guilt in not loving her…children are supposed to love their Moms…"Spencer rambled on, lost in the memory.

"Not all Moms are good and nice," Arthur evenly said, "You don't regret having her taken into care?"

"She was sick, she couldn't take care of herself and I was away…I was selfish enough to want to have a life of my own,"

"Of course you were entitled to your own life, Spencer, and your Mom needed to have the best care available and you got her that…You acted as a caring adult son…you didn't run away never to return…"

"But in a way I did abandon her," Spencer admitted, chastising verbally his own actions.

"Spencer, stop it!" Arthur suddenly demanded his attention, "You did the right thing, as a psychologist you know you did, and as a caring human being you acted with compassion. Only those who have had to deal with a schizophrenic parent will truly understand the sheer hell of living with someone who refuses to take their medication and their resentment towards those who try to help. Your father in the end couldn't cope, in a way your Mom was right, he was weak. But you tried to help, and in the end, you made the decision that your father should have taken. In my mind, it was unforgivable that he left you with a mentally sick woman; I could not have done that to any of my children if my wife had become ill like that."

Spencer looked at the rounded man opposite him. He'd never heard him get angry like this before but it revealed the depth of feeling that this issue managed to produce. Spencer swallowed the words he was about to speak and thought about the situation that he'd only a few days ago discussed with Don.

"Yeah, I couldn't have done that to a child of mine…I wouldn't wish what I experienced on any one," he admitted, and felt the coldness inside him wrap around his heart and squeeze it tight, the growing pressure seemed to crawl up and constrict his throat. He felt pained but surely this coldness within him would go…Spencer so wanted to be close to someone, to prove to himself that his selfish parents had not damaged him as well. Don had found someone and had made something of his life.

Arthur observed Reid, worried at the silence and the paleness of the man before him, who drew himself tightly into a foetal position on the couch. It seemed an unconscious act; he wrung his large bony hands together.

"I'm cold," the patient muttered.

Arthur acted quickly going to the closet beside the bathroom door and took out a fleecy emerald green blanket. He placed this over the curled up form. Arthur thought that Reid reminded him of his family cat, who would curl in on herself to keep as much warmth trapped in the compact shape of fur.

The older man sat back on his couch but was alert to the sudden changes; mood swings and excessive tiredness. Reid had a tendency to feel the cold because he was underweight, usually he was all right inside the clinic but all the staff were careful to give him the warmest coat for outside.

Max had said that their genius was hiding the true effects of the Hankel case but this afternoon, Arthur was witnessing the unravelling of Spencer's pretense. He and Don had been under orders to get to the bottom of Reid's issues and then the PTSD could be more effectively dealt with. It was now all happening but Don wasn't there to help with the safety net and piecing together. It was Arthur who now questioned his own abilities, he didn't want to fail this likable young psychologist.

"Take your time, Spencer, close your eyes and rest a little, I'll stay with you," Arthur gently re-assured. However, the young man was already loosing the fight against the emotional exhaustion that had been building up over the past few days and the events, of 6 weeks ago, which had brought him to the Clinic. When Arthur was sure that he was asleep, he took out his cell phone and texted two messages: one to his boss, the other to his beloved Susan.

For the young patient, it was as if he hovered, invisible and disembodied, observing the disjointed and distorted scenes from his capture and commentated upon what he was witnessing. Reid was once again held captive in the cabin, with the smell of fish hearts and livers, the coldness of the wooden cabin, the damp smell of rotting leaves and his fear…not knowing which of the personalities he'd be facing when Hankel returned. The vivid picture dissolved and he was faced with the distorted image of Tobias leaning over him with the dose of dilaudid ready to send him back to his repressed memories of his childhood. Then the face of Gideon filled the laptop screen telling him, "…you're not responsible for this…He's perverting God to justify murder…He cannot break you."

But Reid felt like he was breaking, like his mother had smashed his beloved violin. Spencer felt he was now just splintering into a shattered being who, like his Mom, couldn't cope with living outside a protected environment. Spencer could hear his Mom's manic laughter…Her face loomed into view; the blue eyes bright with a fevered madness, her blond hair unkempt, framing the once beautiful face. She was laughing at him …her revenge after all these years for his abandoning her to the world of the sanatorium.

Spencer had failed to honour his parent, it would haunt him to his grave…Charles Hankel had heard his confession and pronounced his sentence. He had cheated death…but was he, Spencer Reid, worthy to live? Tobias in his last moments had wished to be reunited with his Mom, but Spencer did not have such a love.

Reid heard the clicks of the trigger and turn of the barrel, all sound magnified in the deafening silence. But he had escaped death…Spencer relived the experience; he had faced those moments feeling so utterly empty. He had no thoughts for his selfish parents, so called friends, colleagues…just a disbelief that this could be his end…fear what was fear, he had no where to hide but to face this earthly end.

Click! Finally, Spencer experienced an emotional surge through his body and felt regret that he had never experienced the real love of a woman, was that why he had finally capitulated and named Hotch? He believed that he could cheat death by trying again to tell the team where he was…Reid hung onto the thought of Hotch, the man he both respected and envied for the family life he had; a more full filled man than Gideon. Gideon who told him he was not weak…how could he ever know…Gideon had not watched the death of the Hayes'…trapped in the brutal world of a tortured young man. Reid's disembodied self recalled thinking how he could have easily become like Tobias because they had both lived with an insane parent… but what power had given him the strength to take another path…

His body ached; his arms trembled with the effort of trying to dig his own grave under Hankel's scrutiny. It didn't matter which personality he was dealing with, he just had to keep going long enough to be rescued …He had seen a flash of light though the trees. Light would bring clarity and goodness and …

"You're weak…Get out of there!" The words echoed through the dark trees mocking him over the years… "You're weak!" the bullies had yelled, had sneered as they hit, kicked, pushed him again and again…But Spencer had survived and found a way to be stronger than them all. He knew how to live with a mad woman…He had done things they wouldn't have got away with…He was clever…He was scared only of one thing…Spencer was scared of his mind.

He saw the lights again, Hankel caught his gaze and Spencer took his chance grabbing the gun, cocking it in one smooth movement… "There's only one bullet in that gun, boy!" he captor taunted and came for him with his knife.

Spencer felt his cold fingers close round the hard metal of the death cold gun and squeezed the trigger without a thought…you had to, it was the law of survival…Hankel would have killed you…But after, the broken body of the mentally tormented Tobias lay before you…Tobias Hankel's final thoughts were for his Mom…Spencer wondered if his, "I'm sorry," was for Tobias or for Diana Reid…Diana Reid had never said sorry; in her world she was beyond reproach, it was the other mere mortals who had done her wrong.

"I'm not weak," the patient mumbled, in his agitated sleep, "I'm not weak," he repeated but this time the tone was more distressed. The sleeper was once more tormented by the screeching harpy image of his Mother screaming, "You're weak!"

Arthur left the kitchenette where he'd been making a mug of tea to approach his patient. It was more than likely he was reliving some traumatic event…whether it was from his childhood or the recent Hankel case, Arthur didn't want to wake him unless he was drowning in the hell of memories.

The door opened and Max slipped in without knocking. Arthur looked up relieved that his superior was going to give him some support for a little while at least.

"I've brought your suitcase, they're given us a room on the staff wing, hope you don't mind sharing but they didn't have two singles this time," Max quietly informed the psychologist. "How is he?"

"It's now or never, Max. Don has broken down the emotional barriers to such an extent that he can't repress the trauma any more. He seems aware of the process he's going through, I guess that's because he's such a good psych himself."

"Yes, we psychs make the worst patients. He's requested no drugs?"

"Yeah, I think he's right over this,"

Max nodded but kept his eyes on the sleeping curled up man, "I think it's going to be a long weekend, Arthur, but we can't waste Don's excellent work. Go and get some dinner, I'll stay with him."

Arthur nodded and left, he felt happier now that Max had come. Coping with the manipulative Spencer Reid was difficult under more normal circumstances but this was the most traumatic incident he'd been in on the job.

Max made himself some peppermint tea. He placed the mug on the light oak coffee table and turned to the window. He drew the magenta drapes across to shut out the night that was still struggling with the heavy rain.

Reid stirred, his senses alert to a change outside himself. He could smell peppermint tea and consciously willed himself to concentrate on that clean, refreshing aroma.

Spencer opened his eyes, adjusting them to the room once more and unfolded his frame. His body protested as he straightened his spine and long limbs.

"Aagh!" he murmured to himself, and turning was surprised to see Max sitting where he had expected Arthur.

"Is Arthur all right?" he asked anxiously, searching Max's face for the truth.

"Arthur's fine, I sent him to get some dinner. We're going to stay here at the Clinic over the weekend to help you face your memories." Max stated in his usual calm manner.

"How's Debbie and Don?" asked Spencer, not wanting to consider too deeply what Max had just told him.

"Debbie's doing very well. They want to keep her in over the weekend and conduct a few more tests to make sure that they haven't missed anything, but overall it was mild as coronaries go. Like most women of her age, she was probably trying to fit 8 days into 7, and doing 2 peoples work. When we're younger you can get away with it for a while but it eventually catches up with you when you try that sort of schedule into middle age."

Spencer quietly listened, pleased that the news was positive, but he was unsure about Max being here. Max read the uncertainty in the patient's face; he understood, he had once broken but that had been a long time ago when he had been involved with the Special Services…

"Spencer, we're going to be here for you because you've been repressing your response to the trauma of your kidnapping. We have to deal with it, bring out all your fears, thoughts and doubts into the light. You need to share them with us because you know that this, examination of those memories, is part of the healing process. I know, I've been there myself…I was once on a covert mission and I was caught and tortured before I was returned…" began Max, halting any protest that Spencer might have been forming. "You're not weak…I was not weak…but we need to face the emotions of the ordeal. The more you are truthful with yourself, the better able you'll be to face the inevitable flashbacks, dreams and panic attacks…They will lessen, but only if you let us help you."

Spencer Reid lay stretched out on the couch, the emerald green blanket now at waist level. His body felt weary but his mind raced along at a fever pitch, what amazed him was that the Head of Mental Health Services had come to stay with Arthur so they could both help him.

"I'm not very good at trusting people," Spencer said, trying to justify his reticence to discuss his recent ordeal.

"I know, that's why I've had my best people here and I'm prepared to open up to you as well,"

Spencer swung his legs round and sat up.

"Would you like to go to dinner?" Max asked.

Spencer shook his head, "I need to go to the bathroom, but can I have some peppermint tea?"

Max smiled to himself as he went to deal with the request, Don had done an excellent job. Don had advised earlier that afternoon, that if you were prepared to give a little of yourself then Reid seemed to respond in acknowledgement of the effort.

He placed the mug of the aromatic tea on the table just as Reid emerged from the bathroom. Max noticed a certain determined fix of the jaw muscles.

So," said the patient as he sat down and picked up his tea, "have you recorded any more of my psych interviews or was the preparatory candidate session the only one?"

Max sat back, so Spencer had come out of his corner fighting…he sensed it was going to be a long night.

End of Chapter 8


	9. Chapter 9

The In – Between Times: Chapter 9 

**By Helena Fallon**

"So," said the patient as he sat down and picked up his tea, "have you recorded any more of my psych interviews or was the preparatory candidate session the only one?"

Max sat back, so Spencer had come out of his corner fighting…he sensed it was going to be a long night.

Max sipped his own tea and looked the genius in the eyes. "I took the decision to record only the first session we had with you. Your application form revealed a mentally sick mother, a dead father who had left when you were 10…we were already delving into their backgrounds. Gideon had come back from a guest lecture at Princeton raving about a very talented young man, who had the potential to be a great profiler, and he wanted the Bureau to break its own rules so he could mentor you."

Max took another sip of the tea, his voice was quiet and steady but it held a depth of warmth that Spencer had not heard before. Max Pentall had a brilliant reputation for being able to rehabilitate agents who had been traumatised in the field. Over the years, since he had taken over the Mental Health Services of the Bureau at Quantico, he had gathered a strong team together who had themselves experienced pressures of living and survived them. He didn't normally take personal control of the cases of junior agents but he delegated to whom he thought would be most appropriate for the individual case.

Spencer Reid was aware of the attention this man had been giving him, since he had been hospitalised in Georgia. He was now confused, alongside his anxious thoughts about himself, there was the unexpected departure of Don who he'd opened up to…he wasn't sure if he could read Max like he had learnt to manipulate Don and Arthur.

Reid decided to pursue an angle that Arthur had hinted at.

"You didn't approve of Gideon's request to mentor me or was it just that I was so young?" the patient probed, his jaw line set and indicating he was going to get the truth from their time together no matter what the cost to himself.

"I wanted to make sure that you would be strong enough for the field work of the BAU…Its very demanding emotionally and puts enormous strains on an agent's social life. The fact that the Bureau accepted you surely tells you that they thought you were capable to join the department."

"But was that at Gideon's insistence or did you also agree?" pressed Reid for a more definitive answer.

"I could have vetoed it, but I thought any one who had experienced public schooling as a genius, with a schizophrenic mother, was very strong to have done so well within the university system. Your last PhD added to the knowledge of the criminally insane, and showed insights way beyond you chronological years. I went and talked personally with Prof. Donovan and I liked what he told me. You see I know Dr. Gideon has a deserved reputation in profiling, but he's not infallible as a man, and I don't belong to his FBI fan club who believe he can do no wrong."

Max stopped again to weigh up how the patient was taking his answer. He sipped his peppermint tea placidly, pleased that Reid didn't seem agitated by anything he had said so far.

"Unfortunately, at the time, there were people who thought Gideon was God's gift to the profiling programme at Quantico and I was one of the few people who had the power to stand up to him. However, I was, and still am, impressed by your research. You went and interviewed some very disturbed minds and read in between the lines of their accounts of their crimes. I was amazed that you had the strength to do that, even more so when I actually met you. You look so harmless, too young to be a serious threat to anyone but that is your strength…Spencer, you are like a willow tree, it has deep and extensive roots that few would realise as they cannot be seen. People only see the apparent beautiful delicate looking tree that sways gently and elegant leaves that murmur soothingly in the breeze. But in a storm, then its true strength is revealed, this fragile looking tree has strong roots to hold it steady as it gets blown about in the tempest. A more rigid tree might break, but a willow will bend and survive.

You are strong enough to survive the terrible trauma you've experienced. Spencer, you're going to do more than just survive; you're going to learn that your strength has always been there, but you have to be helped to realise it. That's why we placed you here…this is the best clinic in the country, and no one challenged my decision to send you here. Does that answer your question?" Max asked in an amiable manner.

Spencer thought carefully about the words of re-assurance he had just heard. No one in the BAU had ever mentioned his research and he was not going to bring it into conversation. He was far too humble about his own intellectual gifts; he was a freak of nature and his problems were all about trying to be accepted by the non-genius minds he met and worked with.

"You don't like how Gideon has mentored me?"

Max breathed hard, and thought how he could reply fairly and not upset the protégé too much. But Spencer had picked up the indecision and pounced.

"You don't approve of how Gideon has mentored me, do you?"

Max felt that honesty was called for, "No. In fact, I felt the Boston bomb was an opportunity to break the hold Gideon had over you. His depressive episode meant that we could put Aaron Hotchner in charge of the BAU and he formed a new team around him. Hotch chose to keep you in the team for field work because of the skills you had acquired under Gideon and also because of that brilliant brain of yours. Your ability to cross reference data and see patterns is something the team is missing at the moment. Hotch said, only yesterday, that they all missed having their human computer with them; your insights have been taken for granted in the past but now they see how very much you have been over shadowed by your mentor."

"Why do you feel Gideon has been the wrong mentor for me?"

"I think perhaps for the first year it was fine. You were getting use the Bureau and the speed at which you picked up procedure was impressive but I could see that Gideon was holding you back, not letting you discover your own pace. What I also saw was that you let him get away with it! You're an excellent chess player, you can beat Donovan and that is no mean feat, but you deliberately let Gideon win…Why?" challenged Max, thinking that he was not going to let Spencer Reid completely take over this session.

Spencer was in a corner and he knew it, perhaps by answering Max he could judge how he reacted to the truth.

"Gideon was missing the relationship with his son. He never spoke about his family to me but I heard the rumours at Quantico about an estrangement. I thought he was lonely…I suppose it was my way of saying thank you for encouraging me to apply in the first place and all the time he spent talking with me. We would go through old cases so I could understand the victimology aswell as the actual perpetrator. He's very strong on why a particular person becomes a victim and how this ties in to understanding the criminal mind."

"That's not the whole truth, I want to know all the reasons behind your behaviour," Max replied. This agent may have fobbed off less experienced psychs but he now had his best people dealing with this manipulative individual, so he was not going to let down Don or Arthur by having half the truth.

The young man inwardly sighed; what might have got past Arthur was not going to satisfy this interrogator. He made his decision and plunged ahead.

"I enjoyed having a father figure because my own Dad left and I had to deal with a mad woman…the very person he was himself running away from. I like mentors who appear to be unafraid of the world around them, that way I learn about how they cope and try to adapt it to myself, if appropriate. It's a manifestation of a form of loneliness because I've lacked my father's guiding hand.

I learnt how to cope with my Mom's insane outlook and demands by a certain amount of appeasement and worked exceptionally hard to not upset any authority figure at school. If I had got into trouble, then the authorities might have realised how bad my world at home had become and I would have been removed from her. It was the only home I had, I kept going until I went to university and then was placed with the Bishop family who lived on campus.

I was fortunate as Dr. Bishop very easily slipped into the position of a substitute father. In some ways, I still look upon those years I lived with them during the week as an experience that saved my sanity. But I always worried that I would be placed with another family; I was so lucky when I stayed with them for my 5 years at Las Vegas." Spencer recalled; he was truthful, but was amazed how recounting this had not been as painful as Don's probing into his early student years.

The Head of Mental Health Services was satisfied; Reid was facing up to the reality of his early experiences and placing them into perspective.

"So, do you consider Gideon a good father figure?"

Spencer was quiet, thinking how to best sum up his present feelings and then justify them before this very experienced psychologist.

"I once did, but as I got to know him…I saw his flaws more and more. I mean, we all have flaws and that's right or we'd be impossible to live with, every one of us appearing to be perfect…can you imagine a society like that?…It would be so unimaginative…bland. Sometimes we need the rebel, or the free thinker, to shake up our complacent ideas and make us reassess our values," Spencer stopped and drank more of his tea, "I guess I've just grown up, but I don't want to hurt him when he's not functioning at his best…you know, it would be like kicking a man when he's down and he has been kind to me, especially when I first started." Spencer finished, hoping that he did not sound too disloyal to his mentor.

Max felt that the young man before him was too generous towards the senior profiler, but then Gideon did have a way of retaining loyalty. This head psych had questioned Hotch's defence of Gideon concerning Elle. Max was even more determined now he had Reid talking not to leave his recovery and monitoring to Gideon, or even Hotch. Hotch still trusted Gideon's interpretation of things, but Max was no longer convinced that he was at the top of his game. This was what Reid had realised, even if he felt a surge of disloyalty for voicing it.

"When did you feel the doubt creep in?" Max asked, deciding to treat Reid as an equal because of his training and experience.

"I guess it was before the Boston bomb. I wasn't actually on that case as I was sick with flu that left me with a chest infection and I was off for 3 weeks. When I got back, Gideon was already on sick leave but we didn't know where…Was it here?" Reid asked, as the idea suddenly surfaced.

"Yes, the Bureau takes cares of its people who get damaged on active duty. We pieced him together and sent him back to teach until we tried him out again in the field, on that Seattle case."

"Yeah, I was the one who Hotch sent to get him out of the class he was teaching. He just thought it was a consult. Morgan was apprehensive when he joined us for the trip," remembered Reid.

"How did you feel about him being out in the field again?" asked Max, who wondered briefly how the team members would react to Reid returning. They saw him as a kid but this man was not…he was a seasoned agent who had faced many dangerous situations out in the field.

"He'd lost his team, including his best friend, I could understand how he broke after that. However, he'd returned to the Bureau and had been teaching and doing consults, I thought, overall he seemed to be coping. It seemed natural that there would be a time when he might be sent out in the field again, but of course, he was no longer the team leader and I did wonder how he would respond to that."

"So you helped him back into the team by taking the protégé role again," stated Max in a firm tone of voice.

"Yeah, I thought it would compensate for him not being the leader and make him feel he still had something special to do, " confessed Reid.

Max sighed, grateful for the honesty; his chosen psychs had done more good than they had both realised. Spencer may have his self-doubts and initial wariness of Max, but his responses were far better than Max had expected.

"Spencer," said Max with a little exasperation in his voice, "You're your own worst enemy. I know why you behaved liked that, but unfortunately, that very action made the rest of the relatively new team continue with their impression of you as being just a kid."

"Yeah, guess it did," the younger man conceded. It felt strange to openly discuss his conscious decision now, but he only picked up a compassionate understanding from the very experienced man opposite.

"But what I find unforgivable is that when Gideon got his confidence back, he didn't set the record straight and force the rest of the team to see you as his future successor," Max stated in a firm manner than seemed to leave no space to argue.

"Oh, I'm too young for that," Reid interjected.

"Yes, in years you are, but in ability you're not!" Max shot back. "Gideon stood before the Board and told them that you should be trained up as his natural successor, that the insights of your PhD marked you out as an exceptional profiler because you were a natural." Max shot back.

"Elle wouldn't confide in me when I reached out to her!" Spencer pleaded for understanding over his failure.

"That was Gideon's responsibility, he's the senior psych. You know it's his job to monitor the team dynamics and he failed. He had put her life in danger, initially by calling a press conference when he'd been expressly told not to by the unsub. It was sheer arrogance on his part…but he does have a tendency these days to act without thoroughly thinking through the consequences of actions." Max stopped his rant and observed Reid, who was watching him carefully, reading him like the superb profiler he was.

Max was convinced now, more than ever, that he could get this agent back working in the field but he was not going to let Gideon regain the control over him in the way he wanted. Gideon denied it of course; he would say that the agent was working within the team and not always just with him. That may have been true, but it was Gideon who still reported on the group dynamics and he was not reporting honestly on this man's true capabilities. Max saw exactly what he must now do and took out his cell phone.

"Yeah, we're having a very interesting talk. What's for dinner? That sounds good…Yes please, I'm scared of Hilary!" Max chuckled and Spencer saw how his face lit up with the laughter he was suppressing, "I'm taking the rest of the evening, go get some rest," he curtly closed the link.

"We're having pizza brought along here and we're going to eat it because I'm not facing that woman if you don't eat her food!" Max stated firmly, but the dark eyes twinkled in a mischievous way and the stern words were dispelled.

"Right," was all Reid could manage, and knew that Arthur was not going to rescue him, it was just going to be Max on a roll. Spencer calmed himself wondering how Max would tackle the trauma of the events that had brought him here.

The knock on the door signalled the arrival Sean with a trolley and the promised food, together with a tub of vanilla and chocolate chip ice cream. He took the tub off the lower trolley shelf and headed for the fridge,

"You," Sean said accusingly, "are getting special treatment again. Them ladies in the kitchen all want to fatten you up. Hilary thought you might like some special ice cream if you were with the Headman himself…said it was her favourite comfort food."

Max merely smiled good humouredly at the male nurse, who left as quickly as he had arrived. Max lifted the covers off the plates; the pizzas smelt appetising and looked colourful even to the patient's eyes.

"Come on we'd better eat this, I've seen Hilary in one of her rants…" he shook his head, "You definitely don't want to push your luck with that one. Rumour has it that she proposed to her man because she got fed up with his dithering."

"Really!" Spencer's mind went off on a tangent exploring this remark. The more he thought about it, the more he believed that it contained an element of truth. The thin based freshly made pizza was just the right amount and the delicious combination of tomatoes, cheese, mixed peppers and black olives made for a colourful appearance.

Max didn't break the silence between them. He thought that Reid should have a little time to gather himself before he began the real work of the evening.

"Coffee?" Max suggested, as he finished his pizza.

"Mmm, please,"

Max went to the kitchenette and got the percolator going. He turned round to see how his patient was doing and was pleased to see that he had also finished eating. Max was impressed how this Clinic had the best record for getting people back on their feet. He personally agreed with Arthur, that the wonderful individual effort that the staff put into the care of the patients was the key to their recovery. Hilary was central to that care, nothing was ever too much to request where food was concerned, and her ladies were a formidable coven.

"How about a dish of Hilary's favourite ice cream?" asked Max, hovering near the fridge.

"Please, we'd better not disappoint the lady,"

They ate the dessert and savoured the contrast of the sweet creamy texture of the ice cream against the sudden burst of bitter tasting dark chocolate. For a few minutes both men just enjoyed the self-indulgence. The smell of freshly made coffee further added to the air of decadence in the room.

However, Max was plotting his next move and Spencer knew this, yet strangely he did not feel as apprehensive as he had been when Don had entered his confined world.

True, Max was not a total stranger but his reputation was even greater than Jason Gideon's. Max Pentall had written widely on the effects of torture upon prisoners of war and PTSD within military personnel. His own background was never discussed but Reid was one of those that assumed military service in his early years before he had then entered civilian life and FBI work.

Spencer sat quietly with a mug of black sugared coffee and mentally reviewed Pentall's published work.

"What are you thinking about?" Max suddenly broke the silence.

"Your published work and what very little we know about you," answered Reid.

The older man smiled, "Does it trouble you that you don't know my background?"

"I can assume a lot of it by your books and articles,"

"You should write more articles, your last PhD could be re-written for a wider audience," he replied and watched the surprise in the patient's face.

"Do you really think anyone would publish it, let alone read it?" Reid asked genuinely thrown by the suggestion.

"I'll recommend you to my editor, it will give you a project to do once you leave here and before you go back to the BAU."

"Then you do see me returning?"

"Of course I do, I thought my people have been telling you that as well. What we want to do is help you deal with the issues Hankel forced to surface, that way the usual PTSD symptoms will not have the same hold on you and the healing will be better and I hope you'll be stronger. You've been facing up to your childhood this week and already you've been able to mention memories to me without getting upset because they've finally been dragged out into the open and put into perspective. You're a very good psychologist and that's why we're respecting your abilities and using our shared professional knowledge. It's always a pleasure to assist a fellow psych because they're more likely to see the value of facing the counselling sessions and work with us, rather than against. Gideon was mentoring you all those years but you never talked to him in depth about what really was going on at home…he was too close to your job. Now I'm the Head psych, but would you believe me if I said I'm also like you?"

"What do you mean by that?" Spencer asked warily.

"I too was captured, tortured, drugged and eventually rescued…I can't talk about it in any detail, it was a covert mission and still classified. I was 27, but I got through it and decided to become a psychologist because of the talents I had…just like you."

Spencer felt alert; he wondered where this conversation was going. Max stared at him, letting his words be processed by the genius before him.

"What precisely do you mean …just like me?" Spencer said in a guarded fashion.

Max took a sip of coffee, he had told his people to break the rules in the book and he was going to have to do the same.

"I too fear my mind," Max replied simply.

Spencer just sat quietly held by the older man's gaze, his mind was analysing the possibilities of that statement; he felt his mouth go dry. He took a sip of coffee but the dryness didn't go away.

"How, because of family mental illness or from some sort of experience?" Reid managed to put together a question.

"Spencer, I didn't want to play the genius game as a child. I was the middle one and saw how my older brother was hot housed by my parents, who were both Harvard graduates. I just did enough on IQ tests…high score but not my true ability. I bet you've a higher score than 187…its an artificial concept after all, as we true freaks of nature know. I coasted through; hiding my true intellect as the middling child while my poor brother tried his best to meet my parents' expectations and my younger brother just dropped out at 13. The usual, too much pressure from the pushy parents and now the younger one is a beach bum, with a bar, in Sydney. My elder brother became a very successful merchant banker and then at 40, took his accumulated wealth, bought a yacht to sail round the world. We think he died in a storm off the Horn of Africa."

"But that doesn't explain why you fear your mind?" probed the alert Reid.

"Like you, I can empathise with those around me, and it saved my life as a captive. It has made me a very good psychologist but the ability to empathise would but useless without the ability to then use the knowledge to manipulate those around you, to create a smoke screen to cover your real ability. You are a superb criminal profiler because you can get inside the mind of the unsub and then use that empathy to destroy them…It's what you're afraid of, perhaps one day of not being able to keep your identity especially with your mother's illness. You shouldn't worry; your manipulative ability will always save you. This was how you managed to cope with your Mom for so long. It didn't work on the school bullies because that was about being too small to fight back, however, playing dead got more sympathy from the school staff than physical retaliation anyway. You persuaded teachers to let you do extra project sessions during lunch times to avoid the playground and communal areas where you were most likely to get targeted. Your mentors were always those who enjoyed taking a fatherly role; your actions were beneficial for both of you. Donovan saw through you, but that lead to a more equal relationship. I think you would prefer a more equal relationship with Gideon."

"It won't happen, he'll not let me near to be an equal profiler and certainly not as a friend."

"He's scared to see you as an equal because that would bring in the possibility that you may be seen has more successful than he is."

"I think that's unfair," challenged Reid.

"Is it?" Max threw back and then justified his thinking.

"He's an experienced profiler who must have seen that you were affected by attachment disorder, but he did nothing about it. If he was a good mentor, he would have tackled that head on within the first year of you being in the FBI, but he did not...

Why not? Well Spencer, perhaps because it suited Gideon not to let you grow into the capable profiler you are. Jason Gideon is not going to cope very well when you go back. Don, Arthur and I are going to be keeping a close eye on your actions in the BAU and will not be relying on Gideon's observations which, as far as I'm concerned, have become suspect concerning group dynamics."

"You mean even when I go back I'm still going to be in contact with you guys?" asked Spencer, wanting the clarification to help settle his whirring emotions.

"Spencer, you've been in the BAU for 5 years and Gideon has not really shown you how to cope with the emotional aftermath of the work. He leaves it to the point where you mention your nightmares to Morgan, who in turn tells Gideon. That's very bad practice. Gideon asked to mentor you but he has not prepared you in a systematic way for the rigours of the aftermath of the work. By not tackling your attachment disorder, you were not going to enter into a stable relationship, no matter how much you might want one, and incidentally profilers need them for their stability because of the very nature of their work .You've spoken about your realisation of that fact. Your mentor has left you without the confidence to reach out to ask him for help, when he should have build up that trust in the first two years at the latest. We've all been at fault…we thought Gideon was doing his job."

"When did you begin to doubt?" Spencer probed, hoping to see if this man's observations confirmed his own.

"When Hotch took over…he's a fine leader, but blinded at times by his friendship for Gideon. When Gideon returned he saw that you stepped back into being his protégé. However, you then weren't progressing in the way he'd seen you behave when Gideon was on sick leave and then teaching. When Hotch first arrived at the BAU, he thought you were just very shy with the complete change of team, after all we lost 6 very experienced people in that bombing. But you were just beginning to gel with the new people and Gideon returned. So Hotch then began to partner you, when appropriate, and he gained a true measure of your abilities."

Spencer quietly listened aware that it was all true. He respected Hotch's leadership and the way he did treat him has an equal on the job. He was the only one who said "See you when you get back" the only one you'd believed in him…not Gideon, not Morgan but Hotch who earlier had trusted him to make his one shot count…his first kill, Philip Dowd.

"No," Max continued, "It has suited Gideon's ego to keep you as the lowly pupil but you have on occasion surpassed him, criticised him and he doesn't like it so he doesn't mention your contribution to cases…rather petty really. I began to instruct my people to always ask the rest of the team about how they viewed everyone elses contributions…It gave me a very interesting picture of what was going on. Hotch trusted that Gideon was doing his job fairly while he, as team leader, was having to keep an eye on internal politics." Max stopped, careful to assess the impact of his criticism of the BAU's senior psychologist. Reid seemed be unmoved; he suspected the genius mind opposite had thought about some these aspects before.

"What really troubles me is that you allowed Gideon to get away with it for so long, you have let him undermine your self confidence. With Hotch you behave with more maturity, and I was just beginning to see you gain in self-confidence…but then I did tell Gideon I had put your name forward to a friend at Georgetown…" Spencer suddenly looked up surprised.

"Yes, I suggested that you be invited to lecture outside of Quantico because you have the ability and should be forced to use your empathetic skills for teaching as well. Don't try and tell me that you didn't profile the psychology department and then your class so you could pitch the lecture properly."

Spencer stared at Max wondering if he was caught in some game between two arch- enemies, namely Max and Gideon.

"I did wonder at the invitation and Gideon was very quiet when I mentioned it, but Hotch happened to be in the room as well and beamed his encouragement," Spencer recalled, as parts of a bigger puzzle began to be uncovered and slotted into place.

Max smiled at the young man, "Well I can tell you that Gideon came to my office and was not very pleased that you were the guest speaker on that part of the course…you see Gideon thought he would be asked because of his seniority,"

Spencer felt unsure of his ground, "What did he say?"

"Oh, the usual where you're concerned; that he thought you'd be too nervous and thought you didn't have the experience. But I pointed out to him that you'd given seminars at university since you were 16, in each of you PhD fields, and that you'd just play the role expected of you…That's our gift, isn't Spencer? We can profile people so well and quickly that we then use the knowledge to approach that individual in the way they feel most comfortable with us. So for the lecture, you were the young capable criminal profiler because Prof. Jackson expected that person to be lecturing his students. However, when colleagues asked how things went you played it down because you didn't want to appear superior than them…specifically you didn't want to seem arrogant like Gideon can sometimes appear."

Spencer was silent; he felt very exposed because Max understood like no other person had ever spoken to him before. Max was speaking again and his very voice demanded his attention.

"However, this chameleon act has got to stop at the BAU…There's the obvious use for it on the job, and certainly when interrogating people, but its giving your less able colleagues the wrong impression." Max said with a stern tone to his voice, he was like a college principal firmly pulling the errant student into line for his own good. "Prof. Jackson was very impressed with your lecture and they had very good feedback from the students."

"I doubt Hotch would believe you, I remember being asked by Hotch to speak to some science students and…"

"You deliberately made a hash of it, why?" demanded the stern Max.

"Gideon had only recently returned to the BAU, I was playing the awkward protégé," he reluctantly admitted.

"Ah yes, was that the time he told you to think out side the box?" asked Max.

Spencer nodded, but Max shrugged, "Like I said, you're your own worst enemy. You and I have always thought outside the box, our principal concern is to think inside the box in order to understand the people around us. Gideon is a fool at times…he actually told several of my psych team about the incident." Max recalled and shook his head in silent disbelief at the senior profiler's actions.

Spencer just stared at this man before him, he hadn't realised just how much Max had observed and understood during his time at Quantico. Spencer felt that twinge of betrayal by Gideon's actions, he had not thought that Gideon had been consistently undermining his image within the team and to the rest of the psychs. Spencer just thought that Gideon played hot and cold towards people in the team because he was afraid of getting close to work colleagues after the Boston bomb.

"Does this present conversation make you feel uncomfortable?" the Head psych challenged.

"Yes, but then I deserve it…much of it is of my own making, but I can't see how this is going to help my return?"

"It has everything to do with your return because the team already realise what an important part they are missing, also you are changed now…there's no going back. No one else on that team has been kidnapped, drugged and tortured, or been subjected to the horrific sadistic game of Russian Roulette…You're not a kid and you're not going to play that role any more…they're going to have to accept that. Who do you think will find it most difficult to accept?"

"Morgan and Garcia will find it most difficult…They'll probably all feel some kind of latent guilt, but I don't blame anyone and I told them that when they rescued me."

"Yes, that showed considerable maturity on your part as each of your teams psych's have pointed out in the mandatory psych sessions I insisted upon for them all. They'll be observing you carefully when you return. But it will pass as you pick up the pace of work again, and prove to yourself and them that you still have those special qualities that make you a unique member of the team." Max said, "But ultimately, only you can show them just how worthy you are of your position on the team."

Spencer sat back, this was not how he had imagined talking with Max would be and he found it very difficult to second guess him. Max was a very strong psych to sit with him, knowing exactly how he used his abilities; Max claimed to have such a gift himself. Spencer didn't think he was lying, it was just that he chose to use his talents repairing damaged agents and assessing the capabilities of others for their work. He couldn't help but wonder what mission had lead to his capture, but the incident had made him decide upon psychology as a career and that had benefited countless others through his own counselling, articles and books.

Max broke into his thoughts, "You OK so far?" he asked in a soft caring tone of voice, which seemed totally in contrast to the more combative stance earlier.

"Yeah, I…I didn't expect you to say some of the things…I've had quite a week so far. A few hours ago, I thought I was physically and emotionally falling apart and Arthur was here re-assuring me that I wouldn't be left to fall but I don't feel as if I'm falling now …its odd…"

"Try and explain how you feel anxious or afraid and we can see a way through it together. Spencer, what we are doing is just how any good psychologist would help a patient but being a psych is a plus in your case…Your hurdle is to trust…Can you trust me?"

Reid looked at the older man and a part of his mind whispered, 'this is how strong you can become, not a Gideon but a Max. Now do what you always do…reach out and learn what you can from him.'

"I'm trying to trust because I want to go back to work," Reid answered truthfully.

Max's face softened, his patient was being honest with himself, and it was now Max's duty to lead Spencer through the horrors of the memories that he was trying to make sense of emotionally. Max didn't want this agent to fall by the wayside; his potential for the Bureau was immense. When Max had been rescued he had learnt from his team of psychs that you could make a return from what appeared a disintegration…Max had taken strength from each of his psychs during his recovery. Spencer, he knew, would do the same.

"What is the worst memory of your capture?" Max asked softly, looking into the enormous dark eyes as they relived a memory.

"The drugs…I begged Tobias not to give them to me…I couldn't stop him," he responded.

"Was it the actual loss of control over the situation or the effects the drugs had?" probed Max, determined to confront the emotional issues wrapped up in the incident.

The patient seemed to pale a little but Max was pleased that he did answer the question.

"Both!" Spencer finally said, and was surprised at how strong his voice sounded in the room. "I like to feel I'm in control of things and I'd suppressed those memories of Dad leaving and Mom's mental state for so long…you know, I just kept dealing with the immediate not the past."

"You had no control of the situation, no one blames you for the drugs that were given you. Have you any residual cravings for dilaudid?"

"I don't want it…I don't need to escape into drugs. I want to try and make the most of the real world around me. I felt weak that I couldn't fight the effects of the drugs," confessed Reid.

"But you did Spencer. You had a flashback to your father leaving but when you came round, you didn't want to play Hankel's games. You were asked to choose one to die. You summed him up correctly as a sadist in a psychotic break so anyone watching would know the situation. Told that the other heathens were watching, you'd the presence of mind to give them a clue…Something like, ' I won't choose who gets slaughtered and have you leave their remains behind like a poacher.' Spencer you'd already had a beating but your mind was still fighting to control; you managed to get an understanding of Hankel and inform your team. They saw you had to make a choice or the targeted ones would all die, probably in one gory night of killing, but even then you bargained; you were going to choose the one to live,"

"Yeah, but I then saw on screen the deaths of Mike and Pam Hayes…I didn't save them," Spencer's voice pleaded for understanding, "Did I make the wrong choice? Perhaps if I'd not bargained then only one person would have been killed or…"

"No, Hankel seemed to have the 'couple' signature. Just because you only saw a woman, you didn't know who she might be with in the house." Max stated evenly, not letting Spencer condemn himself as an accessory to murder, "You had to play along with his game or he would have killed them all like he'd threatened. You're an incredibly strong man, these were horrendous experiences, but you still fought for a better outcome. Even when you were told to name a team member to die, you named yourself…You're 26 years old, but you were willing to sacrifice your own life for them; the rest of the team still haven't got their heads round that one!"

"But I named Hotch…" Reid interjected, with a hint of guilt in his voice.

"Yeah, and gave them another clue as to where you were…you had worked out you were in a graveyard, despite your appalling treatment over 3 days which included having a seizure." Max shot back, not allowing Reid to undermine his accomplishments during his time of capture.

"But perhaps, if it had been Hotch or Morgan, or even Gideon, they would have coped better…" Spencer said, revealing his doubts.

"Jeez man! The team individually doesn't want to even think about how they would have coped in similar circumstances. You were incredibly brave and were trying to communicate with Hankel despite his fragile hold on reality. You were given very little fluid or food during your captivity… the drugs' effects were very strong and dangerous. The hospital was horrified when they got the tox screen back. They had been trying to re-hydrate you in the ambulance and then there was your head injury…There were 3 specialist doctors arguing about how best to treat you…Hotch was frantic! They had all vetoed any thought of having you flown out to another hospital." Max raised his voice a little to startling effect.

Reid sat up and listened to another side of the incident. Max noted the interest and continued with what he knew.

"As far as the hospital were concerned, the cracked ribs were minor, the foot was more of a shock. The doctors scolded your team-mates for letting you walk on a foot with such injuries…They spent a good hour just cleaning the wounds after x rays revealed the extent of the beating you received. Morgan was finding it very hard to control his anger, Prentiss took him for a walk around the hospital grounds before he totally lost it with the staff."

"What about Gideon and J.J.?"

"J.J. was being cared for by Garcia, she kept repeating how you said it wasn't her fault, but she wouldn't go and rest until some decisions were made about your care.

Gideon was sitting on his own when I got there, so I went to speak to him. He had noticed the belt used on your arm for the needle…Gideon was in shock about it; he knew you wouldn't normally resort to drugs. I got him to smile, as I reminded him that you always had a large amount of caffeine in your mandatory drug test results and we agreed that was your addiction.

Gideon told me, how at the beginning of the case, you had asked him what was wrong because he'd seemed sad. He was surprised that you had asked that, but then on reflection, you're a very sensitive man and it didn't seem fair that this had all happened to you…he hoped you'd come through it. I assured him that was my job and I'd make sure that you got the best help. Later, back at Quantico, Gideon revealed how he'd paced, in the Hankel bathroom, thinking you were dead and that his actions had sent Hankel over the edge. Gideon kept saying that he did the right thing to stop the internet link, but he'd not anticipated Hankel's response when he found out. I understand now that Hankel's response meant that they had witnessed you convulsing and thought you dead.

I went and found Hotch; he was waiting for a brain scan result. Hotch was upset because he realised how very much he used you for your brilliant brain but he'd not taught you how to deal with the emotional impact of the work. That I found interesting…it was Hotch, not Gideon, who was showing distress for not personally training you more. Hotch felt he'd failed you as the leader of the team, especially when he said that he'd expressed the same sentiments to Gideon, while at the Hankel house, and Gideon had just flippantly said 'you show by example'. Hotch then told me that he thought that he'd not supervised you enough and if you didn't pull through he'd personally find it hard to head the team."

"But Hotch is a very good leader and he wasn't to blame for anything that happened to me…it was just one of those unexpected incidents that spiral out of control…" Spencer interjected.

"That's exactly what I told him. But the whole team saw you as the kid, the youngest, none of them thought about the wealth of experience you have and how you'd survived difficult situations before. They totally under estimate you." Max stopped, watching the patient carefully; he was quiet but coping with the information of the team's reactions. Reid seemed to be filling in the blanks of the episode and Max was aware that this was an important part of getting to grips with the whole experience.

"I don't blame any of the team; I didn't know which of the personalities I'd be dealing with or what was going to be demanded of me next…they had no way of knowing what I was facing," Reid finally said and made a move to the lute. Max noticed how the tension disappeared from the man as he positioned the instrument. He plucked a few strings and then adjusted them in an effort to keep it tuned.

The lutenist looked up, "Do you like lute music?" he asked shyly, not wanting to force his music on Max. Don had brought him the lute and Arthur understood the music but Max was an unknown quantity.

"I play jazz piano at home…drives my wife nuts…she's had the den sound proofed! She loves Vivaldi and Mozart concertos," Max confessed with a rueful smile, "But please play me something…It's important for you to have an outlet through music."

"I feel like playing some early Italian pieces to help me forget the storm. Here's a fantasia by Francesco Canova da Milano."

Spencer began to fill the room with the rippling notes displaying the virtuosity of the composer who had been a renowned lutenist of his day. It did not have the rich texture of Dowland, but the beautiful music had an enchanting quality and soothed the emotions of both men.

As Max listened he had not fully appreciated how tense he had been inside, especially when he remembered the behaviour of Jason Gideon over the last 5 years. He felt that Gideon could have prepared this sensitive man far better than he had for the rigours of the work. However, Reid's previous life experiences had given him a very strong inner core, which Max decided, was the best way to help this agent. Spencer had all the strength already in place; but he had never believed in his own worth enough to openly acknowledge that he had already strong barriers, that had protected this wonderfully sensitive side.

Max smiled to himself as the man automatically played another piece, the music dancing lightly around the room as Max watched the long slender fingers magically touch the strings.

Spencer played for nearly an hour, stopping only briefly to occasionally tune the strings, but he made no attempt to speak to Max. The older man mused that it was as if he'd totally forgotten his presence in the room. However, Max didn't mind as this was part of Spencer's healing process and it was a making it a rather enchanting evening…one of the most unusual psych sessions Max had ever held.

The lutenist stopped and smiled openly at Max, it was the first time that he'd seen that smile light up the whole face since his hospitalisation. It radiated an endearing sensitivity and Max wondered where all the lovely female sensitives were hiding themselves. This man was in need of an empathic companion to share this private world of beautiful music and inner sensitivity.

"I find the lute a great comfort to me after a case," Spencer said simply, "I don't always have an audience, but I use it to remind me of the beauty that still exists in the world despite the horrible things I sometimes see. I don't need drink or drugs because nothing can be match the expression of joy and sadness that these composers experienced in their world, which could be just as senseless in its violence as ours is today. It's this music that lifts me up and out of the hell. I'm grateful for Don finding this lute, I didn't want my own lute brought here; that's awaiting my return to a more normal part of my recovery."

"Yes, I understand. When I was recovering from my torture, I would ask to be taken to one of the pianos…There were several sound proofed practice rooms because it's such a popular instrument. Anyway, I'd pound away playing old favourites from Rag Time to the late 40's, then I'd do some off the wall improvising…You're much calmer to listen to," Max revealed.

"I wasn't too calm with Arthur this afternoon…I think I was spiralling down and I couldn't stop…"

"How do you feel now,"

"Like I'm hanging on to a life line, but am I going to be pulled up to safety?"

"You're already doing that by sharing the experiences, you're breaking the hold they have…The experiences will not disappear, but by realising that your inner strength has never left you, they can be tamed. You'll have flashbacks and nightmares, even panic attacks, but by letting us help you, together we can show you just how strong you are. It frightening to feel you've lost control…Its terrifying to be shit scared and feel your heart pound so hard you think its going to burst ...I know I've been there. I've woken up with sweat pouring out of me as I've totally out of the blue relived my torture and sense of hopelessness…most recently 7 months ago!"

"What did you do?" asked Spencer riveted by this admission.

"I calmed myself with deep breathing and re-assured myself that I was in my home. I've an understanding wife who always holds my hand first, then if I want a hug, she leaves me to make the first move."

"You're lucky to have a wife, I don't have any one to share my life with," Reid said, with a hint of longing.

"With the work schedule you BAU people have I'm not surprised…I'm not going to let you back to work until you're ready. That means we'll be giving you some goals to reach…I've already told you one of mine; to prepare your study of the criminally insane for wider publication…I'm going to call my editor and then take you to lunch with him to fix the deal."

Spencer's eyes widened in disbelief.

"I don't make empty promises. Arthur and Max have their own pet projects for you and they're all designed to make you realise how strong and versatile an individual you are and that you're far more than just being a profiler. You see you already know that you need a life outside the Bureau, but unfortunately the department you belong to isn't the one with regular hours!"

"Yeah, I know that…I do try to have a life outside the BAU," Spencer replied defensively.

"But no close friends in the area, no girl friend and friends are even more important to have as you've no family to rely on."

"That's easier said than done…I've not been too successful on finding a girlfriend and as you said the job doesn't help and it takes a while for me to trust…and…"

"Stop!" Max held up his hands, "You're going to give me a list of negatives…If you're on sick leave, you'll have more time to go to places. The sort of places you enjoy and you just might meet a like minded person there…That's the normal way you know!"

"I do try!" Spencer snapped back.

"Good job you're not Jewish because Arthur's Susan would have been introducing every eligible female who she considered the perfect match…That woman is incorrigible and if I'm honest, my Anna's no better… Those two are dreadful together, match-making any one who enters their circle…So I'm warning you, I'll give you a decent amount of time but I'll be wanting to hear that you have a steady girl friend by the end of this year, if not sooner."

Spencer swallowed, this seemed a far more terrifying prospect at that moment than living with his PTSD. He hugged the lute unconsciously for comfort.

"What if I don't manage to achieve this by…" Spencer began.

"Christmas, yes lets set Christmas as the date. You can bring someone for dinner at my house…We always have lots going on during the festive season so I'm sure the BAU will be based at Quantico for one of those dates," said Max, warming to the idea as he went along. He watched his patient hug his lute; the thought of writing a book was easy compared with going to dinner, with companion, at the Head Psych's house!

"What if I don't have a companion to accompany me?" Spencer found himself shyly asking.

"Then you'll be thrown on the mercy of my wife who'll sit you next to whoever she thinks is appropriate," Max firmly replied with a twinkle in his eye, but he felt that the challenge would be met, Spencer just needed a push.

"Mmmm, I need the bathroom," Reid said thoughtfully and disappeared allowing Max the time to place the used plates and dishes on the trolley and put it outside the room for one of the staff to take along to the kitchen.

Spencer took his time in the bathroom and thought about this session he was having with Max. He'd always felt apprehension around him before, but now he was beginning to seem far more human and likeable, even if he didn't like Gideon. 'But how much do you trust Gideon?' his inner self mocked him. He had only himself to blame for some of the perceptions that others had of him and he'd been taking the easiest route within the team. Max was right, he had to be more assertive and writing that book was one way of being seen in a different light. It would also open up other avenues for lecturing, if the BAU didn't work out. He stopped washing his hands at that thought and stared at his reflection, something he seemed to do a lot in this mirror he mused. The face that stared back was still thin and the eyes sunken, but they didn't look as haunted as the last time he'd been in here. Perhaps, Max was reaching him after all with his techniques for piecing him together.

"Hey, hurry up!" Max's voice penetrated through the door.

"Sorry," Spencer called, as he quickly dried his hands.

"Right, your turn to make the coffee," instructed Max, as Spencer emerged from the bathroom and Max passed through the same door.

Reid went to the kitchenette for the first time and quickly discovered where things were kept. Max had washed and dried their mugs ready for a fresh brew. Spencer was surprised to find quite a pleasant collection of different varieties of coffee. He choose a dark rich Colombian roast for the percolator and then found the tin of assorted home made cookies. He thought with a smile, that Arthur would be in his element with this cookie tin, which had been replenished from the last time they'd nibbled through Hilary's specials. Spencer placed a selection of cookies on a large white plate and found the milk jug and sugar bowl. He placed them all on the tray together with the ample sized mugs. Spencer really appreciated those mugs…

"That has the makings of a midnight feast," Max's voice surprised him from behind and Spencer visibly jumped.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to creep up on you," he apologised, and then turned back to the couches to wait for Spencer to bring the tray.

Several minutes were spent appreciating the cookies and strong coffee, but Spencer knew that Max would not let the time drift without focus. Eventually, Max judged it appropriate to go forward.

The older man leaned back into the supporting comfort of the leather couch, holding his half-drunk coffee.

"What did you think about when you had the cold muzzle of a gun put to your head?" he asked in a dispassionate manner, and the dark eyes tore into Spencer Reid's emotional armour.

Reid remembered vividly the nothingness, "I was blank, there was nothing at first. I guess that was the effect of blind fear. I just kept saying 'no' to Hankel. There were the 5 clicks of the trigger movement they seemed like a whiplash cutting across the emotional void of the room. I thought, 'so this is it, my life will end like this.' I felt very detached from it all. Then I suddenly had this rush of energy; it just surged through me and I gave my final attempt for rescue. Poor Hotch, I didn't mean the assessment I made of him but I had to convince Hankel, his next shot was at the roof so I lived for a little bit longer. Hankel put just one more bullet back in the barrel again and spun it. I thought he was going to kill me then, but time passed and Tobias returned with another dose of his brand of drugs."

"You're a survivor, you saw an opening…what matters is that you didn't give up. You're not going to give up now are you?"

Spencer shook his head, "I don't want to give up. I would like to do a bit more with my life…facing death like that…" Spencer stopped abruptly as other memories rose from the depths.

"Tell me what you were going to say," commanded Max, but his voice held an overwhelming compassion and Spencer felt he understood more than either Don or Arthur.

"I was facing death alone with a madman. I'd faced my insane Mom when I thought she was going to kill me; I was alone in the house with her, no one would have heard my cries. It was the same with Hankel; it was such an isolated place, no one would hear the bullet that would end my life. When Philip Dowd held me hostage and I was facing death, but I wasn't alone, I was with Hotch. On that train, when Ted Bryars took Elle and the other passengers hostage. I'd gone in and I was quite prepared to face that seeming impossible situation because I wasn't alone…I had to try for the others who were with me. But with Hankel, I felt utterly alone and I felt I'd failed with my life…I was a genius but I'd no one to really mourn me. My Mom has her own world and at times doesn't recognise me. My colleagues might have occasionally remembered the socially awkward genius that had once worked with them. My biggest regret, as I faced death alone, was that I've never trusted myself to love a woman or felt that I've been loved. Sorry, that sounds so hedonistic…"

"No, it doesn't. The one thing that I clung on to, while I was held captive for 3 months, was the fact that I loved Anna and hoped that she'd be waiting for me. When you face the prospect of death your lover is very important, often more so than your parents or siblings, who are often pushed into the back ground by friendships. It all depends if you had a close family life of course. You and I didn't, so our birth family didn't figure in our thoughts. My memories of Anna sustained me through my torture and she was there to help me recover. I'd the good fortune to know the love of a good woman. I consider you an amazingly strong person because you haven't yet found your life partner, but you were strong enough to still fight for your life and the possibility of finding someone in the future. You're basically an optimistic person."

"Yeah, guess I am or a very foolish one,"

"Why are you afraid of women?"

"You mean besides the attachment disorder. I guess I have some pretty high standards even if my geekishness doesn't frighten them away. I've had a few dates, even a few one-night stands, but I didn't find them emotionally satisfying. I guess I want to find a woman I can trust with my sensitive side and that's quite emotional…I mean you can't respond to music and literature in the deep way I do, unless you have emotional depth."

"Good," said Max firmly.

"Good? Is that all?" asked a bemused Spencer.

"Good, you have good self awareness in this and that means that you are already profiling any possible future companions that cross your path." Max replied watching the look of horror form on the patient's face opposite.

"You make it sound quite mercenary," Spencer muttered.

"Not at all, said Max with a warm smile, "We all do it to varying degrees. We humans have a certain set of criteria that we would like to see in a companion and this can be very simplistic, like I want someone who's rich. Or the criteria can be as sophisticated and well thought out as I would expect with someone of your sensibilities and education. What I'm pleased about is that you've thought deeply about it as this will cut out a lot of heartache. As you didn't have any of that dreadful teenage angst, and believe me, being a genius as saved you a lot of time and energy chasing the wrong girls because the right ones are rarely the ones who take notice of the spotty teenager. Girls tend to set their sights on the older, what seem to them, more experienced and sophisticated older brothers of the spotty teenagers. But it's a simple form of profiling; if it gets honed over the years, then a partnership has a chance of surviving if both parties have a good dose of realism woven into it!"

Spencer chuckled; he could imagine Don or Arthur saying those things to their children.

"I think it's a good thing that you've still got a romantic streak hidden behind all that genius nerdiness." Max added, pleased at the range of emotions they had covered this evening, "Along with your old fashioned politeness. I'm surprised that you have remained unattached, but I supposed you'll blame that on the job!"

"Yeah," replied Spencer with a boyish grin.

"Come on, let's call it a night and try and get some sleep. If you have any nightmares, Arthur will come and be with you. Don't be afraid to ask for him if the nurses fail to call him. We're here for you, Spencer." Max quietly said, rising from the couch and stretching. He hoped that ending on an optimistic note would help the patient to get some sleep, even if it might be disturbed later.

Max entered the roomed the Clinic had set aside for Arthur and himself. He noted that Arthur still had his bedside light on and was filling in the Washington Post's crossword.

"How did it go?" Arthur asked his superior, pausing, holding his blue biro about an inch above the crossword.

"Very well, far better than I thought it would. Reid opened up to me for the first time and we travelled through many emotional themes. I will take him walking tomorrow after breakfast, I think we turned the corner tonight," Max said before disappearing into the bathroom.

Arthur put his pen down with a smile. He was pleased that Max had given up his weekend; it was just the right time to have Max push things along in his sterner way of doing things.

End of Chapter 9.


	10. Chapter 10

The In-Between Times: Chapter 10 

**By Helena Fallon.**

He stood looking out across the expanse of desert. He had always loved this place, away from the constant noise of his home city, and it held happy memories of star gazing with his Dad and then with Dr Bishop and Peter. There were no stars to see in the bright sunlight, but he could still appreciate the awesome beauty of the desert's honeyed yellows and browns and large rocks that gave shelter to tiny hidden plants and animals.

Spencer always came to the desert after visiting his Mom; it put things into perspective before travelling back to the city to have dinner with the Bishops.

He had just been accepted on the Quantico programme, with the final destination being the Behavioural Analysis Unit, and had come to Las Vegas to tell his Mom the news. It had not been received very well. Her doctor thought she'd be fine, but on hearing that her son was going to work for the FBI, Diana Reid had erupted into a rant about her son's betrayal at going to work for the enemy. Spencer had left, leaving the staff to deal with the aftermath of the outburst, and had driven out here for some peace.

He now sat on a large rock that gave him a wonderful view of the scenery. Spencer felt content with his decision; he knew that he could learn a lot from Jason Gideon and was amazed by the older man's generosity towards him. Dr Gideon had invited him to spend a few days with him, before the interview, so he could prepare him for what could be a daunting experience even for the most assured of men.

Spencer wasn't outwardly self-confident, although within his own expert fields he could hold his own. Spencer Reid was by nature a rather humble person, in the best sense of the word; he didn't knowingly try to belittle people with his knowledge. However, he did have a wide pool of knowledge, consisting of the more useful and useless facts imaginable, as the consequence of a photographic memory. His fellow students had valued his abilities for any number of quiz challenges. The Princeton Postgraduate Quiz team had raised several thousands of dollars for local charities; it was all good fun, and it made a change to charity poker and bridge fund raising nights.

"Spencer" he felt his shoulder touched and gently squeezed, "Spencer!"

"Mmm…" he absently voiced and blinked awake to find his room light already on.

"Jeez…Dr. Pentall must have really tired you out…you slept though, it's 7 a.m. and Arthur is already hoping that Hilary will make him pancakes," said Glen, "You getting up?"

"Yeah," he assured and stretched out in the bed, amazed that he'd slept through despite the issues Max had covered.

Spencer got ready and made his way to the dining room. Arthur beamed his greeting as he entered and Spencer went over to join him.

"So you got pancakes then," he observed, eyeing the ample plateful.

Arthur was happy, "She looks after me just like my Susan," he replied, enthusiastically cutting into his requested breakfast.

Christine sauntered over, "Good morning, Spencer, now would you like pancakes or scrambled eggs or both?" she asked mischievously, "Or will it be toast again?"

"I think I'd like wholemeal toast and is there any strawberry conserve left?" he asked hopefully, and gazed at Christine with his big dark brown puppy dog eyes.

She smiled indulgently at the young man, "Oh, I'm sure I can find some in the kitchen," she said.

"Thank you, I'd appreciate that,"

Arthur looked at him and grinned, once Christine was out of hearing he said, "You're a right charmer, I think if I had a daughter I'd keep a close eye on her with you in the vicinity."

Spencer blushed at the gentle teasing. "I've told you Arthur, I'm not exactly that successful with women. Can we change the subject?" he said, and Arthur was sensitive enough not to pursue it.

"How do you feel about yesterday?" Arthur gently asked, keeping his voice low because he knew the staff didn't like patients and their doctors talking shop in the dining room.

Spencer waited until Christine had brought his toast and conserve to the table, and had disappeared again with the promise of coffee, before replying.

"Max is very different to you and Don. Doesn't like Gideon much does he?"

"No, but at least he's honest about it. Spencer, just remember whatever Max says about Gideon is his interpretation of what he sees. Don't take it all to heart, think for yourself and discard what doesn't fit in with your experience. But I do think it's valuable to get a different point of view of things though and Max isn't perfect…none of us are," replied Arthur softly, but understanding that Max had probably shaken Spencer's world up the previous evening.

"Max wants me to re-write my last PhD for a wider audience," said Spencer, testing Arthur's reaction to the idea.

"I think that's a good idea, several of the Mental Health team think you should write more, your student articles and your thesis are very lucid…you've quite a way with words,"

"You've read them?" asked Reid, surprised at this.

"Yeah, most of us looked up your work once we heard the Bureau had bent its rules to admit you…we wanted to know who was coming."

"Oh, I guess you would," Spencer said as he spread conserve on the second piece of toast, "I've never really thought about it," he admitted, and then thought how naïve he had been, in their position he would have done the same. He mentally chided himself for his short-sightedness and notched it up to another instance of immaturity.

"Ah! Coffee," Arthur announced, as Christine made her way towards them with a coffee-pot and two mugs on her tray. Spencer was ready for his 'wake up' coffee but he began to wonder what was going to happen today.

Arthur saved him asking, "Max is dealing with things this morning while I'm off to the synagogue with my wife"

"Oh," said Spencer as he drank the caffeine down.

"You not up to another Max attack?" asked Arthur, carefully assessing the patient.

"I don't know, he was very critical of my colleagues at times and I think perhaps that was a bit harsh,"

"Like I said, Max has his point of view, sometimes it fits your experience, sometimes it provides another way of seeing the situation, but in the end you'll come to your own conclusion of things. Just remember that Gideon has had a hard time over the past couple of years, and he sometimes can act abruptly and appear to have no interest. But Gideon's basically a good man, with his own demons, trying to do the job. He puts his heart and soul in the case but sometimes, these days, that means he doesn't always cover the group dynamics comprehensively.

"Do you think he has not been totally honest in his reporting of the team?" asked Spencer very quietly, never taking his eyes off Arthur's face.

"I'm not sure of that one, he usually talks to Don or Bill but Max has not been happy with him, especially since the Randall Garner case. If Max has hinted at that, be careful Spencer, you may get your self caught into something more than we know about," Arthur carefully counselled.

"Some internal jockeying for position, what's going on?"

"I don't know because I never get involved in the internal politics of the Bureau. I just try to do my job as well as possible and try not to take sides. The Bureau is a great place to work, but the in-fighting can be a distraction…All organisations have some power play going on; I don't play the game. Watch out, here comes Max."

Spencer casually took another sip of his coffee.

"Good morning Spencer, Max said cheerfully, "I gather you had a restful night."

"Yeah, it was a surprise to me too," Spencer replied ruefully.

"Well, I'm off to collect my Susan, see you two later," said Arthur rising from his seat.

"Yeah, have a good day and don't eat too much or Hilary will be disappointed if you can't find space for her little delights…" Spencer said, with a mischievous twinkle in the eyes that pleased both psychs to see.

"Now," said Max in a decisive tone, "We're going for a walk, finish your coffee and meet me by the garden door in 10 minutes."

Max left without waiting for a reply, but Spencer recognised an order when one was given. He quickly finished the drink and went back to his room to use the bathroom and put on a warmer jumper for the outside. Spencer made sure that he was not late, he imagined Max liked punctuality being ex-military. Glen had made sure that Spencer had one of the warmest coats in the closet and he now stood by the garden door looking out of the window.

"Ah, good, I like punctuality unfortunately it's not my Anna's forte," Max said, as he opened the door and stepped out.

The morning air kissed their faces with a crisp clean coldness, but the deluge of the previous day was over. Max walked briskly and Spencer noted that he had no choice of destination with this man. Spencer breathed deeply, the fresh air was invigorating despite the chill it possessed, and the pale blue sky held a promise of sun as the clouds seemed to be clearing with every step they took.

Spencer knew where they were heading as the upward climb began on the path that lead out of the low shrubbery. His feet began to drag a little, knowing that their owner was not willing to come this way. Max had been quite content to walk in silence and Spencer wasn't quite sure how to begin a conversation; there were too many things to consider that he'd not paid attention to before. Had he been too trusting or just plain lazy? Spencer forced his legs to keep going, he would not let Max win in this; he was going to be the master of his own life.

The two men continued to ascend the gentle slope, Spencer a step behind the older man who was very fit, something that the patient didn't feel at that moment.

"I'm sorry," Max suddenly said, aware of Spencer's harder breathing, and slowed his pace a little. "You all right with this so far?"

"The last time I was here I'd a panic attack," replied Spencer as evenly as possible, he didn't exactly feel as distressed as that first time, but he was aware of a tightening of his stomach and a dryness crept into his mouth. Spencer began to try and calm himself, knowing that he couldn't go through life without trying to fight the fear. He thought about all he had previously read on Post Traumatic Stress…he had to discipline himself to apply his knowledge personally; he was far too lax at doing that in his own life. Max was right; he was coasting…is that why he picked up sometimes a sense of disappointment from Gideon because he was not reaching his full potential?

He suddenly stopped, and was shocked to find they had actually walked into the small copse of trees…

"Breathe!" Max commanded, "Smell the air, it can't hurt you… Breathe, the air is still damp with the rain in here, but the dankness of the leaves can't hurt you… Breathe!

Good, Breathe!…We're going to leave now,"

Spencer felt firm hands take hold of his shaking arms and he followed the pressure and firm guidance his body was receiving. It seemed that they had only taken a few steps and they were out of the world of dark trees and dank leaves.

Max kept one gloved hand on his arm, he was still saying re-assuring words, but Spencer was concentrating on his measured breathing and calming his tightening stomach muscles in the hope that he would not throw up his breakfast. Max suddenly stopped and Spencer realised that they had reached a familiar seat. He shakily sat down, and marvelled that he hadn't been sick.

"Well done. I deliberately didn't tell you at breakfast where we would be going and you coped very well; you should be proud of yourself".

Spencer noted the words, but he felt too shaky to respond, however, Max seemed content to just sit beside him in silence. The patient shut his eyes and savoured the clean air and the faint birdsong that punctured the soothing quiet. He'd done it…a small triumph and he might not be able to always cope, but this time he'd been able with Max's presence, to experience a small victory.

Spencer finally opened his eyes and looked around at the beautiful bright greens of the varied vegetation; he absently thought how much he liked the colour.

"Feels good doesn't," Max quietly stated.

"Yeah, it looks like its going to be a nice day."

"We'll be able to get another walk in this afternoon. You know why I have to bring you back here?"

Spencer nodded, "I'll not be allowed home until I can cope with the suddenness of the attacks, although they could come at any time…like the nightmares and flashbacks,"

"Yes, we can help you through them while here, but in the end, there'll be times when you'll be alone and then you'll have these successful memories to fall back on. You must never feel a failure if a panic attack leaves you feeling sick and shaking. Sometimes we manage them and others, we don't manage them so well. Today, you were very good and we'll come again, and again, twice a day, everyday, to try and break the hold of the fear. I know you'll tame it. You won't be able to stop it, but to acknowledge it for what it is and then lessen it effects is the best way of looking at it." Max calmly stated, with the assurance of one whom had travelled the path many times and still had to face the unexpected visitation of memory.

"Can we go back? I'd appreciate some peppermint tea," Spencer admitted shyly.

"Yes, it has its uses doesn't it, but would your team ever believe you if you revealed you'd been drinking it?" Max replied lightly, and the two men set off at a brisk pace back to the Clinic and their room.

Spencer sat on his usual couch and watched Max prepare the mugs of tea. He wondered what would be the area of discussion this morning. Max was still an unknown quantity and Arthur's words kept coming back to him. Spencer didn't like the power play that did exist at the Bureau; he tried to keep his head down and well out of such things. But then he began to wonder again if he was being caught in some sort of battle between Max and Gideon. Both men were very clever; he could believe that both understood the undercurrents of power and playing a strategic game to place your people in the most advantageous position, while protecting their own backs. Spencer didn't want to be part of any such game and would leave the FBI and find something else…But what would he do?

"What are you thinking about so pensively?" Max asked, as he put the mugs down on the light oak coffee table.

"What I would do if I left the Bureau?" he replied, hoping a half-truth was better than a total lie.

"Why, you thinking of leaving?" Max probed and gave him a searching look.

"I was just wondering what if I couldn't face the field work anymore?"

"I would cross that bridge if you come to it. I think you need to go back to see how you cope before setting your mind on actually leaving."

"But what if I can't cope?" pressed the patient.

"The Bureau would probably offer you teaching, like it did with Gideon when he first returned. However, with your skills you might want to try a totally different department…I could see a case for putting you in computer forensics, I suspect you're an accomplished hacker,"

"I'll take the fifth," Spencer snapped back, and Max smiled, he wondered momentarily just what did this young man get up too. However, there was something about Spencer, which made Max feel there was an innate goodness in him. Even his chameleon role-play was not meant to get people hurt, although early on, it had come close to the wind.

"What…you're going to let that pass?" Spencer suddenly challenged, and Max was momentarily caught off guard.

"Actually, I was thinking about you playing the inept protégé," Max threw back and noted that he had his patient's attention.

"Any particular incident?"

"When Gideon sent you in to interview Eric Miller; I've seen the tapes. You went in all unsure and defensive…really convinced the guy and your colleagues observing. You're one hell of an actor, you spent two years interviewing the criminally insane and you were scared of that guy?"

"I was annoyed at myself for my silly remark. Gideon was correct to send me in to interview him on my own. I knew he couldn't have killed his ex or children from reading his criminal record on the way down…I could feel his pain as I walked in the room, it was like being punched in the stomach. He was right, I wasn't showing him respect by avoiding his eyes. I didn't want to look because of the pain of loss that poor guy was feeling and we had him shackled. I proved I was in control of the situation by profiling him. I was so cruel with that poor man…in the end, all he wanted was his child's drawing…I was so ashamed of how I handled it, I tried to learn from it…" recounted Reid with sadness.

Max sat back, feeling himself the distress of the recalled memory. He observed the sensitive man opposite and wondered if Reid would burn out before retirement age, or if his inner sense of self preservation would lead him in a new direction.

"Any other times you recall that your actions were questionable?"

"The campus arson attacks…you know the case you brought up yesterday,"

Max nodded and gave him a look of encouragement to go on.

"The male student Jeremy, actually reminded me of the arrogant student jocks who used to take the piss out of me…It took me back to my first PhD seminar; I was 15 and there were all these self assured students, at least 6 years older than me. They were dismissive of the wimpish boy before them…especially because women were present. Well you know how that sort behave…I could've helped them with how to approach the end of term task they were on...the 3 body problem, but I was playing my role…I knew Hotch was there and would rescue the situation. Afterwards, I felt so guilty, peoples' lives were at stake and I was role-playing! I stayed up thinking about the case and came up with the idea to help crack it. But I was wrong to have behaved like that in the first place, but I'd got myself into the problem, I then had to act my way out of it. I annoy people sometimes with my stream of useless facts…I ought to curb that as well."

Max observed the man opposite, he seemed to physically change before his eyes although it was all an illusion…it was really a change in his mental attitude.

"Well, you'll have the perfect chance to be yourself now when you go back," said Max and then added, "Spencer did either Gideon or Hotch ever pull you up over this …well immature behaviour?"

"No…I mean Hotch would sometimes put a stop to my spouting too many facts and when one day…we were at an Indian Reservation School and I was answering questions directed at a pupil…." Spencer confessed and thought how ridiculous it sounded. He cringed inside, that was last year…It had been a stupid idea in the first place, to play the role he had on Gideon's return, and it had taken time to get himself out of the hole he'd dug.

"Can you remember how you felt when you first went to the BAU…or the initial training at Quantico?"

" Oh! It was very different to academia. I had 3 doctorates and knew how to fit in with university life. But here it was so different; the agents were all more experienced in the real world. I'd had an odd childhood but I'd never had a job. I'd always won scholarships and various postgraduate prizes to pay my way and although use to being the youngest, I was out of my comfort zone," replied Spencer honestly, "The actual classes were no problem, although getting my gun qualification was."

"Why?" interjected Max.

"I guess it was the thought of the possibility of killing a person, it put up this block…Hotch was really supportive, and Gideon…but I was so annoyed with myself. I knew all the theory and I could even break down the actual action, of firing a gun and hitting a target, into its physics theory…When I had to actually fire a weapon on a case, all that practice came in useful and I acted correctly. I felt detached, at first, from the actual killing of Dowd…you know, I couldn't feel anything. Gideon came and talked to me on the flight home and re-assured me that was normal and that it would hit me later…"

"So you felt Gideon was supportive?"

"Yeah, he was…he wasn't making a big fuss over it. That's Gideon's way; he tries to show how to cope by example, but of course, we're all not necessarily like Gideon," explained Spencer, and then felt a bit guilty by the implied criticism.

Max nodded pleased, that Gideon had really done his job in this matter. Max remembered that the mandatory follow up psych evaluation had gone well; Reid had shown a well-balanced appreciation of the event and after feelings.

"Do you still feel at a disadvantage when it comes to experience?" Max continued to probe.

"Look everyone on the team are older than me…J.J.'s 4 years older and has a very confident air when it comes to handling the press, and distressed people…she's also good when liasing with the different Police departments. Morgan and Elle had Police experience, and Emily has 10 years experience in the Bureau. Well, Hotch and Gideon have their own reputations…Then there's this genius, boyish looking kid, who may be able to run rings round them all academically, but do I deserve my place? Where does my previous experience fit in the real brutish world of the crimes we attend to? It was all book learning and the reality could be pretty depressing and physically sickening… but I guess I'm getting hardened to it."

Max nodded, making a mental note of the self-appraisal. He felt that so far this morning, he had seen the real Spencer Reid come out of hiding from behind his many masks.

"Did you enjoy your time studying?"

"Oh yeah!" Spencer grinned with enthusiasm, "I went to 3 great campuses, met some very interesting people, had a really mentally stimulating time…."

"But you decided to apply for the BAU?"

"Yeah, I had 3 doctorates: theoretical mathematics, theoretical physics and then psychology…that was more applied. I was dealing with real people and I felt connected with the world again. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"I think so, your mind had spent years steeped in theoretical puzzles and you wanted to feel a real connection to the world around you…"

"Bit odd though…I mean a connection with the real world again through the criminally insane! I think I was probably trying to understand the human mind and having a paranoid schizophrenic Mom…"

"It's quite easy to understand your choice of study with your background. My torture experience led me to study clinical psychology. I don't regret my decision, do you regret yours?"

"No, and the other doctorate areas remain an interest. Perhaps, if I can't cope with the BAU work anymore, I might go back into the clinical psychology direction and get more experience in a hospital setting," said Spencer, and then realised that he was thinking himself out of the FBI.

"Does it frighten you when you begin to think of alternative careers?" Max asked, hoping that the patient wasn't going to think he couldn't return to the BAU despite all their work.

"It's strange, I guess I haven't had to seriously think about it before," Spencer admitted, but an inner voice told him that it was wise to consider alternatives and it was a warning to the Bureau that he was not their puppet.

"I'm pleased to hear you speak about it so coherently, but I do think that you're being a little premature about the thought of ending your profiling career. Not all profilers are in the fieldwork team and like I said, you might want a change of department." Max replied evenly, "More tea?"

"Please, but I'll go to the bathroom while you make it."

Once more Spencer felt the breathing space that this room provided. His mind reviewed what had been said and he felt that he had been fair and honest in his replies. Reid hoped that Max would change the subject when he returned to his couch because he really still wanted to try with the BAU again. Dr Spencer Reid wasn't quite ready to accept defeat yet, and this might be his second chance to prove himself worthy of a position on the team.

As always, he looked in the mirror. He thought that this morning, he had aged at least 5 years! He opened the door and mentally prepared himself for another session with the Head Psych.

Spencer picked up the lute for the first time that day, and plucked the strings and tuned them to his musical satisfaction. He played a few light Italian pieces like he had the previous day, but he sensed that Max was in a talking mood. He stopped playing and reached for his mug of tea, but held the lute close to him like a shield.

Max smiled; the action had not escaped his notice. Max Pentall had to admit that the more he got to know the real Spencer, the more he liked him as a person. He was not macho, or particularly arrogant with his knowledge compared with other FBI personnel. There was a general feeling of liking Reid in the BAU department because he was their genius and quite a gentle, quiet person to have around. He was not annoyingly flirtatious like Morgan, or moody as Gideon was often perceived to be. Hotch was generally thought of as the respected boss with a rare smile and a hidden humour. With Reid, behind his puppy dog enthusiasm, there was a sense of self- direction when forced to make decisions.

"What did you do when you were not studying on campus?" Max suddenly asked.

"At which campus?" asked Reid, hoping to narrow down the parameters of the question and to give him a little more time to analyse where Max was going with this.

"Oh…Let's say when you went to Harvard and Princeton because then you were out of the comfort zone of the Bishops'."

"I'd won scholarships to both and had small apartments included, with allowances to cover for 3 years study. But I'd already done the theoretical backgrounds for the research and I only spent 2 years at both institutions."

"But what did you do when you were not studying…you know relaxation. How did you view your fellow students because at least now you were…what 17?"

"Yeah, but I was never going to fit into the undergraduate scene. I mean these kids; many of them were away from parental control for the first time …for some of them it was one long party of sex and drink with loud music thrown in. There were the two extremes: the wild types…experiencing their freedom and at the other end of the scale the quieter ones, who clung to their religion to save them from the excesses of their peers around them. I didn't fit either group. I'm not into wild parties and I'm not particularly religious, but I do try to respect other peoples beliefs." Spencer took a sip of the tea.

"I made friends with all age groups from the society's I joined. I was in the Physics Society, The Mathematics Society, The Chess Club, The Poker Group, The Harvard Choir, The Go Club, The Italian Society, The French Club, The Psychology Circle, the…"

"You were quite a social being then?" Max stated, fascinated by this insight into his student days.

"You thought I just stayed in my room or the lab and just worked?" Reid replied, "I have many interests but getting drunk, experimenting with recreational drugs and one night stands wasn't my scene. I found a lot of like-minded people and I still remain on good terms with some of them. I was even known to be seen in the company of women!" Spencer ended with a flourish and Max laughed.

"Potential girl friends?" asked Max mischievously.

"There were a few fairly fumbling relationships, nothing serious. I was actually considered quite safe to be with because I had the reputation for not jumping them and I was treated like a friend. You know like the relationship I have with Garcia and J.J…there's nothing sexual, but I like to think that we are friends in the work place."

"You don't like strong aggressive females do you?"

"I liked Elle, she could be scary at times, but I did care about her and I hope she's all right. I think I prefer the quieter type because I'm fairly quiet myself…You know, I'm not out to find the exact opposite to me in personality because I don't find that restful."

"Restful?" Max queried.

"Yeah, most of my close friends are basically quiet people. They're fun to be with but they're not loud. I think Garcia is probably the loudest person that I know and that really is something of an act." Spencer said, and then stopped as he felt he really shouldn't be talking about the gentle Garcia.

Max took the hint and changed the subject.

" You play Go, where did you learn that?"

"I went to the Go Club on the Las Vegas campus and found it more interesting than chess."

"They're both games of strategy, why?" asked Max, quite intrigued by these little details.

"The rules are simple but it can take a lifetime to become an accomplished player. It's far more complicated than chess that's why I find it a more interesting challenge. Did you know that even the strongest Go computer programmes can be beaten by Asian school children," began Spencer. Max watched the transformation in his patient as he went into his 'communicate knowledge, defined subject' mode, which he was sure his BAU colleagues were well acquainted with. He had gone off into describing the history of the game in great detail and Max watched in fascination, and tuned out most of it, so he could observe the 'genius affect'.

"…Although both chess and Go originated in Asia, chess became more popular in the west. What I find fascinating, is that you start with an empty board and then you build strong and flexible structures…so different to chess where you start with a full board of pieces with the quest of defeating your opponent by capturing the king. There are far more ways of winning at Go and there's a handicap system for the players depending on how experienced you are…An honestly ranked player can expect to lose about half their games…It requires patience and…whereas, I think chess can be seen as far more aggressive…In Go, the balance of influence and territory may shift many times and a player has to be flexible and resolute….it teaches concentration, balance and discipline…Good Shape is the highest compliment in a game…I always find it quite a beautiful game to play for the beauty of the shapes that can be achieved and…" Spencer stopped, "Sorry, I've just gone on too much…you should've stopped me," the enthusiast said, and looked down at the table embarrassed at his nerdiness taking over.

Max was momentarily speechless; there was definitely only one Spencer Reid and there was this child like enthusiasm that was quite endearing about him, but it could be exhausting for the mere mortal on the receiving end.

"Spencer, you're not totally at fault here, like I've said before, we…the FBI has failed you," Max felt he had to speak his mind more openly before this brilliant man blamed everything on himself, and left the organisation, believing himself to be a failure.

"Spencer, you've a great deal to offer the Bureau, but we have mis-managed you and you've every right to be angry with us, as your employers. We've other very clever people who come into our organisation and we help them to adjust to the work far better, bluntly we've failed you and really the buck stops with me. I'm trying to see where we went wrong so it never happens again should another genius, with wide gifts, comes to us at such a young age."

Spencer, looked up, his whole face open, easily displaying the emotions the man was experiencing.

"There was no systematic monitoring of what was going on with your placement. There were the mandatory psych evaluations, but you're an accomplished psych and knew how to answer the questions…or rather more importantly, you gave the answers you knew the psych wanted to hear. I, as the Head of Mental Health Services, must share my portion of the blame. People straight from academia, with very high intelligence, do have a period of adjustment to go through before fitting into the FBI machine. Their department heads usually assign a mentor and they're helped to bring their learning, from the highly cosseted world of academia, into the more practical and at times stressful realities of the FBI world. We've all seen it, brilliant minds but can they adapt the theory, all that book learning, to the work place? Some do adjust and make good careers within the organisation; others feel uncomfortable and return to academia without a loss of face. It's all part of growing up, and even older people have career changes and some, several careers during their working lives.

However, we failed with you. Gideon saw, quite rightly your potential, but then didn't work consistently to help you to adjust to our organisation. You said yourself, that 'it's not Gideon's way'…that is, he tends to show by example but he doesn't always firmly, openly spell out exactly what is wrong, or the behaviour he expects. In your case, this was magnified by your own personality flaws. You're a sensitive, you're naturally empathic…these are wonderful gifts as a psychologist, but with your personal history, you've used them in such a way as to be all things to all people.

You had to live with a paranoid schizophrenic; she couldn't be the loving mother that you needed, you were the carer when she should've been looking after you. This lead to a certain amount of 'appeasement' in your behaviour for an easier life at home; you kept secret what was really going on because you feared foster care. You were, on top of these problems, further isolated within the public schooling system by your intelligence…Teachers just put you into higher grades without truly dealing with the consequences of that. You were bullied: bluntly what high school student wants to be out smarted by a nerdy little kid!

Persistent bullying undermines anyone's self-confidence, but you coped like you always do and worked out your own survival strategy. After all, you didn't want to make too much of a fuss at school because then people might realise just how ill your mother was. So you put up with it, spent as much time as possible within safe places within the school, which probably meant the library, doing extra school projects. This strategy had its own fall out, you were seen as the perfect hard working pupil…perfect for a teacher with a class of hormone driven teenagers, all too many of which were spoilt brats.

I've come across too many parents appeasing their own children to get good behaviour…bribery with money, gifts and holidays…all flattering and fuelling those immature personalities. I'm sure you're seen it yourself with the Bureau's people…keeping up appearances, but how many have time for their families? The pressures of work and keeping up a social image; we try to keep an eye on things, but it can all cause a downward spiral and you can loose some very good people through drink, drugs and gambling.

Sorry, I'm digressing here," Max said apologetically to the silent patient, who was sitting hugging the lute like a child's comfort toy. Max took a sip of tea and continued.

"You perceived that to keep teacher's off your back you had to be the good hard working child...you soaked up knowledge anyway, so you coped with your strategy.

You continued that successful strategy while at Las Vegas where you were placed in an excellent foster home, by the university authorities, so you flourished. The fact that you still have contact with this family shows that it was of mutual benefit. However, again there was a detachment from the reality of undergraduate life. You were too young and an element of bullying, I suspect more psychological than physical, crept in. You fell back on your usual behaviour of reading the expectations of your tutors and working to that and remaining out of undergraduate life.

Then you escaped to Harvard, but without you to keep an eye on your Mom, her health deteriorated so much that you had to make the decision to have her committed to a hospital environment. You still find that decision distressing but, as a psychologist, you know it was the correct one. At Harvard you began to behave more like a normal student, although you were the quieter, hard working type... The kind tutors like because the work is always done on time, you're no trouble, you're kind and considerate to fellow students…actually a very nice person despite your geekiness. But in a university setting that's fine and tolerated because you're a genius, and isn't that how genius's are supposed to act? This continued as you went onto Princeton for your third doctorate.

To the pure academic mind you are a true genius, revealing your expanse of knowledge, by this change of subject area for the third time. There is no doubt that you are, but to an astute psychologist it can also hint at a personality who is still searching to find out who they really are. Your study of people, I think, was inevitable with your gifts at reading them…But you chose to study the criminally insane, perhaps to try to put to rest some of the fear remaining from your childhood experiences with your mother. Now into this mix, Prof. Donovan, introduced Jason Gideon. You saw the opportunity to put to use your abilities and Gideon was set upon mentoring you, but then things didn't turn out as well as they should have.

You're of a similar age to Stephen Gideon, who has an estrangement with his father. You became Gideon's pet project and also subconsciously, a substitute son. However, with Gideon's own character flaws, the mentoring didn't iron out the immature flaws of the pupil. The old team saw that Gideon didn't curb your geekiness so they ignored it, or used it for light relief because of the distressing job they did. Consequently, you didn't progress in a way you should have to fit your academic knowledge into the ugly practical world of the BAU.

When we lost the old team so distressingly, you found yourself with a new team leader and new agents to adjust to. The apparent self-confidence of these more experienced and worldly-wise agents was once more a challenge. You were still trying to find where you fitted into this new team when Gideon returned. With your sensitivity and loyalty, you let him always take the lead, especially as you also perceived that this was exactly what Hotch did. If they had disagreements, these two senior agents would not reveal them in front of the team. However, neither have sat you down and said bluntly that this behaviour is childish and has to stop now…which is what you needed at certain times. Nor did they lay out a programme of training with targets for you to achieve.

So Agent Reid, you coast, continue to be an awkward and flawed brilliant mind who is not working effectively on the team in a big organisation. You, Reid, needed some firm guidance at the beginning; it was sadly lacking and you drifted and got set in your patterns of behaviour because no one addressed them. As it is, I should have intervened sooner and I'm certainly going to tighten up protocols for training and assessment of new people, especially those with exceptional academic records and little experience outside academia.

However, the whole of the team has been shaken by this traumatic experience, and I know that there has been some soul-searching in your absence. I hope that you'll look upon this sick leave as an opportunity to think about who you really are and how you want to be perceived within the FBI. You've changed already, so going back with a more mature attitude to life and the work place, will be seen as a natural reaction to your near death experience at the hands of a very disturbed mind.

I seriously want you to start being yourself and stop pampering to the kid genius image that your colleagues tolerate. Morgan would benefit from you standing up to him; Hotch already feels guilty that he has not trained you properly and Gideon knows that he too has failed to prepare you for the work. Gideon both cares for you, like a son, and wants to protect you but is inconsistent in his approach. Like I said, it's my fault for not having a clear protocol for each department for training and assessment and to have them independently reviewed."

Max stopped; Spencer Reid was still sitting silently hugging the lute. However, Spencer's face looked resolute and the older man was hoping that he'd think himself into at least trying to go back to the BAU because he did see a future place for him there.

"Come on, lets go and get some fresh air, it'll help you think about all I've said this morning," Max said, rising and going to the door to lead the way back to the trees.

They walked briskly and the day had brightened and warmed up. Spencer was thinking hard about all that had been said. It was true that there was no clear training procedure after the initial academy training, because each department then took the responsibility for it's own people. He had actually never been given a formal training schedule when he arrived at the BAU. Gideon taught very informally and by example, because the general attitude was that you learnt far more by doing the job than any lecturing or book knowledge could provide. He knew that any early profile requests he had done were initially checked and this second checking lessened with experience; now his worked just had the normal spot-checking like everyone else in the BAU. The two senior profilers did have to write an annual report on each of the agents' overall effectiveness in the team, but neither had ever called him in and said that any particular behaviour was unacceptable.

Spencer sighed to himself. He knew why he liked having a 'father figure'; he had lacked the discipline that a father was supposed to impose. Reid had to be the responsible adult figure for his mother when he was still really a child himself. The adults he came in contact with all treated him well, and didn't question his behaviour, because he was basically a well-behaved child. However, who was going to give him the occasional reminders that his behaviour was immature and not acceptable, and it didn't help matters that he had a gentle demeanour. His nerdiness was acceptable in the university setting…His gentle, and sometimes old-fashioned, ways did mean people were more tolerant of things; if he had been aggressive in any way, they would have obviously shunned him. However, Spencer reflected that he did seem quite popular, in his quiet way with people, in all the activities he participated in at university.

He thought about the people he'd met since going to Quantico. The team seemed to tolerate him but was that just because they felt any censure should come from Hotch or Gideon? He resolved to try and be more circumspect when giving information in future, but he had so much information in his head. Sometimes, he even stuttered because the verbal and mental processes of the brain were out of balance: the words just couldn't keep up with his thinking.

The people he knew outside the FBI were often professionals and several were lecturers. Spencer had diverse interests and they attracted, which as far as Reid was concerned, fellow enthusiasts. He thought that perhaps to someone like Morgan or J.J. these people might again be too nerdy!

The warmth was gone, along with the sense of sunlight, and Reid found himself once more surrounded by trees. They had even walked further into this small wooded area than earlier that morning. The dampness wrapped itself around him and made the man shiver.

"Breathe deeply, try to keep to a measured breathing, it will help to control the stomach muscles, and give you something to concentrate on as the memories try to take hold." Max said, but to Spencer the voice seemed far away, as he tried to follow the commands.

Spencer felt a little dizzy as the taste of stomach acid threatened to become something more, but he used all his mental strength to suppress the sense of taste, and fought for control over his body.

Once again he felt Max's hand on his arm directing their return to the path and the light.

"You're doing remarkably well, you may look very pale and shaky but you haven't given in to the panic."

Spencer couldn't reply; he didn't feel too good at that moment and needed to sit down. Fortunately, the seat was soon in sight and he sank down breathing hard with relief and closed his eyes to compose himself. He had to get use to this; it was the only way he was going to get away from this artificial world of the Clinic.

He felt his body rhythms slowly return to normal and he savoured the relief of not being sick again.

The soft sound of the first strains of Bach's suite no.1 for cello, suddenly entered this quiet place.

"Sorry, Spencer, that's my cell," said Max, and he was already up and moving away to take a private conversation.

Spencer blinked owlishly for a few moments as one did if you had closed your eyes on a bright day and then suddenly opened them to find your world filled with radiant colour. He watched Max about 10 feet away, talking so softly that he could not make out any of the conversation, nor was he in a position to read his lips. However, he noticed tell tale movement, signifying that Max would have to go soon. The man seemed to loose the once relaxed stance, his body tensed for action and the face took on a serious far away look. He seemed to be listening attentively to the caller and then briefly spoke, waited to hear the reply and then another brief sentence from Max. He suddenly turned back to Spencer, as he was putting his cell away.

"I'm sorry, Spencer, that was an urgent call for my help. Are you able to walk back with me to the Clinic, or shall I call for one of the nurses to come and join us?"

"No, I think I'll be able to walk with you," Spencer assured and rose to join the older man wondering who needed his help, but it was not his right to know.

They concentrated on the walk back to the Clinic and Spencer felt a little breathless by the time they turned on to the path about 20 feet from the outer door.

"Sorry, I've really taken this at a pace but…"

"It's an emergency and I understand that you're not supposed to leave me on my own in the grounds. I'm all right…good job I've got long legs," the patient panted.

They reached the door and as soon as they entered, Max eyed Sean and called him over to escort Spencer to the dining room.

Spencer took off the warm coat and put it on the hook near the door.

"He was in a hurry…emergency?" queried Sean.

"Yeah, no idea what, but I thought I could keep up with him so as not to hold him back," replied Spencer, still feeling his heart pounding along with his laboured breathing.

Sean eyed him and smiled, "Considering the condition you were in when you arrived here…you're doing good!"

Spencer looked at him incredulously, he felt dreadfully unfit.

"Come on, Hilary's got a vegetable crumble today and I bet you get offered ice cream for dessert,"

The patient smiled to himself, he couldn't fault Hilary's care.

End of Chapter 10


	11. Chapter 11

The In-Between Times: Chapter 11 

**By Helena Fallon.**

Spencer had let Sean chat away amiably all through lunch about the various sports he'd been watching on satellite television. He imagined the nurse spending most of his life enjoying this activity with the like minded patients at the Clinic and continued the passion when he went home. Spencer didn't feel he had any right to enquire into his private life, sometimes the staff volunteered information, like Dr. George Cordle, but usually there was a certain distance with the nurses.

After lunch, he told Sean that he was going back to the consulting room to play the lute.

Sean seemed happy with this; the general rule was that the staff liked to know where the patients were and Spencer's choice was safe and was not going to create any problems for staff or fellow patients.

He had sat quietly playing a varied repertoire of renaissance lute music for about an hour and enjoyed the relaxing effect of the activity. He was playing Dowland's, 'Mrs. White's Thing', when he heard the door open and a few moments later the sigh of the leather cushions as a body sat on the couch opposite. He looked up as he finished to find the smiling face of the gentle Arthur.

"Beautiful, I've not told Elliot that I know you," the older man said, and Spencer smiled in acknowledgement of the trust between the two men.

"Max called me about the sudden change of plans, but sometimes he does have more pressing things to attend to," Arthur said.

"It's OK, I understand, you've no idea how many times I've been interrupted by the call to work," Spencer replied, and Arthur thought, not for the first time, that the BAU field team had a dangerous work/life balance and was amazed at the commitment of its agents. The team had its casualties and he felt that some of the sacrifices the agents made were too heavy a price on their private lives.

"How did things go this morning?" Arthur asked, although Max had told him briefly what had happened, he still had to follow clinical procedure and assess the patient's perception of the morning.

"Max profiled me," Spencer bluntly stated, "For myself I'm thinking that this whole traumatic event has given me a second chance, not only to prove myself in the BAU but also to take another look at my life generally. I've been coasting and not even applying my psychological knowledge to myself… I've just been wearing so many masks, depending on who I'm with or the place, that I need to take stock of who the real Spencer is."

"My…the Max effect!" said Arthur, with a twinkle in his eye, "But don't be too hard on yourself, remember with we all wear different roles in our different areas of life. Bet you can't imagine me as the Dad, then there's me the husband, neighbour, Liberal Reform Jew, the bridge partner, the gardener, the amateur potter and that's all alongside the work role I have."

Spencer smiled, Arthur was a good man who liked to look for the positive but his feet were firmly on the ground. The patient could imagine the man before him in the roles he'd just identified, but whether he'd got the picture correct was another matter.

"So who do you think you are, Spencer?" asked Arthur, and thinking that Max's assessment of the morning session had been correct; he'd shaken the patient out of his complacency, but also highlighted the failings of the man's training.

"Ah! Now that's the problem. A few months ago, I told Nathan Harris that 'who we are is constantly evolving'. I've got so use to playing to the image that different people have of me that I'm not sure who I've become…especially after Georgia."

Arthur nodded; this was the real Reid coming to the surface; the one prepared to face the challenge of the past, present and future.

"You faced death, without friends, at the hands of an insane man it's natural that you now re-assess your life. You're a sensitive and intelligent man, I believe that only good will come out of this introspection because you're essentially a good person." Arthur quietly asserted, "But let's look at who you are…How would you describe yourself to a pen friend," he suggested.

Spencer looked at little bemused at the older man's suggestion, but he knew what was meant by the exercise even if he'd couched it in old-fashioned terms.

"Mmm…that dated me didn't it?" Arthur suddenly added and thought a little more before mischievously adding, "OK, pretend you're being interviewed as a client for a match making agency and the…"

Arthur stopped; the patient was having a fit of giggles!

"I'm going to make some coffee," Arthur pronounced, pretending to be in a huff, but he was pleased that Spencer still had his sense of humour.

Several minutes later Arthur brought coffee and cookies to the table. The patient may have stopped giggling, but both knew that there was a serious side to the original question.

"Well, so what would you put in your private autobiography?

Spencer took a sip of the coffee, a part of his brain registered that it was a more gentle Kenyan bean variety, and lightly roasted.

"The only child of two academics: my father a mathematician, my mother a professor of medieval literature. I was identified as a genius before my third birthday, but I was educated within the public schooling system of Las Vegas. My parents separated when I was 10; my father was unable to cope with the schizophrenia of his wife, and he went to work in England. He died in a plane crash in Japan when I was 12. By this time, I had graduated from High School and was studying at the University of Las Vegas. I was far happier at the university because there was less bullying, and also for the settled home life for most of the week provided by Dr. Bishop and his wife.

I graduated at 15 and immediately began my doctorate in theoretical mathematics, which was completed in 2 years because I'd already done the groundwork while finishing my initial degree.

I won a Harvard scholarship to pursue a doctorate in theoretical physics, which I began when I was 17 and gained at 19.

I won a scholarship to Princeton to complete a doctorate in criminal psychology after presenting a convincing profile of my graduate studies in psychology since I was 15.

Under the guidance of Prof. Donovan, I was encouraged to pursue a career with the FBI and he made a point of introducing me to Dr. Jason Gideon of the BAU.

Dr. Gideon persuaded the FBI to accept me at 21, where I undertook the basic academy training course before being transferred to train as a profiler with the BAU.

I have been with the Bureau for 5 years.

My interests include the sciences and mathematics, music from very early church music to modern jazz. I'm widely read in literature and art. I prefer the theatre to cinema, because I like 'live' performance. I play the lute and I prefer the game of Go to chess. I play card games but I dislike gambling and prefer to play for charity. I'm not very sporty, but I do like to walk and enjoy horse riding and swimming in warm pools.

I would describe myself as a quiet and sensitive man who prefers quiet pursuits away from the horrors of BAU work. I'm loyal to my small circle of old friends and keep in touch with people by emails and letters. However, it does take me time to trust people, but once I give my trust then I am loyal and it will take a major upset to destroy a friendship.

I'm not a party animal and don't like discos because of the crowds, loud music and lack of dancing ability. I do like the occasional glass of wine with a meal but I don't like alcohol in excess because I like to remain in control of my reactions to my surroundings. I don't feel very comfortable in bars and tend to choose a non alcoholic drink unless I'm with a trusted friend.

My faults are my geekish ability to recall facts in too much detail and I don't necessary turn off the stream of consciousness fast enough to prevent overwhelming the listener. I always try to please those with whom I'm with; this is a consequence from childhood. I had at times to appease my Mom for some sort of life at home. Also, I had to be the perfect student to prevent the school authorities finding out just how ill my mother was at times. Sometimes this behaviour, even now, leads me to behave in the way I perceive the other person wishes. I can therefore give the answer I sense the psychologist wants to hear!"

"Spencer!" said Arthur sternly, but he was pleased to hear this lighter mood bubble to the surface, "Well how would you profile your potential wife?"

"A well educated friend, quiet, sensitive, trustworthy, with a stable family background, preferably still nearby to be supportive because the job takes me away a lot. She should have a career and have her own interests to fill the times I'm away. I would prefer someone who is musical and at least share some of my other wide interests so we can do things together. Ideal age…I suppose 23 to 28…How's that?"

"Can I speak to my rabbi's wife, she's an unofficial matchmaker?"

"Arthur!" Spencer grinned.

"That was interesting, you don't mention religion or race."

"I don't see race as an issue and I respect other peoples beliefs even if I'm not openly religious myself.

"You also don't mention physical appearance?"

"No, I notice physical beauty but the outward appearance of a person doesn't necessarily mean they have nice qualities. I saw too many flirtatious beauties while a student, flattering to have on your arm for some men, but I'm looking for something deeper and more lasting. I'm more interested in having a trustworthy friend to come home to, rather than be worrying about a beauty, who might not be flirtatious herself but have to fight off the attentions of other men," replied Spencer seriously.

Arthur nodded with understanding, "I'll not take you home with me, Susan would be ringing round all her friends comparing notes on suitable females. Honestly, women, sometimes when they are happy themselves they get this interfering bug…My children have a pact between them…they don't tell on each other and never mention the word girlfriend or date near their mother…or aunts!"

"What's in the bag?" Spencer asked, who had noticed it beside the couch while going through the personal profile and wanted to change the subject.

"Oh, now that's part of the project I want you to do when we let you go home," began Arthur, pleased that he had Spencer's attention, "Susan loves to decorate, or as she would say, 'redesign our living space'. These are the leftovers of her most recent endeavours, it contains magazines about homes and interior designs and there's some brochures from furniture companies, paint colour charts even some addresses of shops supplying specialist materials and such. Anyway, as she has finished with this lot, I thought I'd bring it along for you to browse through," said Arthur handing the bulging red carrier bag across the low coffee table before continuing.

"I have two projects for you for when you go home; you're to personalise your apartment, which you told me you've done nothing with since moving there…and it looks it! That way you'll put into your home your tastes and it will reflect your personality and it will give you some thing to do with your time. But no shopping online. You've to go out and cope with the real world again after being closeted here for so long."

"OK, but you said you've two projects, what's the other one?"

"Before you leave here, we're going shopping and you're going to buy some new clothes. We're going to put your Dad's shirts back in a case, so you can still keep them in your closet, but you're going to choose things for yourself. It will help give you a new image for when you return to the BAU."

Spencer nodded; he had to concede that these were the correct tasks to give him and he felt a spark of excitement about them. These projects would give him time to adjust to the changes he felt had occurred in his life and the maturity he must now be prepared to show.

"So you can see me going home soon from here?" Spencer pressed, feeling he was more likely to be able to judge Arthur's honesty than Max Pentall's character.

"Oh, most definitely, you started to change from that first session I had with you, its not been quite a week but there has been a change in your mental attitude. I knew I needed Max to have some input…he's marvellous at getting to the heart of issues and moving things along. I would have got there on my own, but it would have been at a much slower pace and then I think there was a greater risk of you playing me. You can't do that so easily with Max…or Don for that matter. Don understands the emotional problems that developed in your family. My family experience was very different…not perfect, no one's ever is, but it wasn't traumatic. If Debbie had not been taken ill, Don would have broken you…You were teetering on the edge, which is why you broke when Don left. You had built up a rapport with Don and then suddenly he was gone…Just like you feel everyone abandons you when you begin to let them close to the real Spencer Reid…But I sense the Bishops' are a constant." Arthur stated.

"But they are back in Las Vegas and they don't understand the stress of my work here because I never tell people that side."

"You need to build up a nearer circle of trusted friends to help you cope with the pressures, Spencer," remarked Arthur, in his quiet but firm tone of voice.

Spencer looked at him and sighed, "Look, it's pretty difficult when you're on call 24/7. You know I'm not lying when I say I've tried to follow my interests and meet like-minded people, but it doesn't help when a concert or conversation is interrupted by the call to Quantico! I don't know…" Spencer shook his head thoughtfully, "Perhaps I'll end up leaving because I finally decide that the price is too high to pay…you know, everyone deserves some off duty time. I don't know how Hotch copes with his wife and son. Barry left the fieldwork team, when they had the twins, because he felt that he wasn't seeing them enough and there was no family nearby to help. Actually, things have changed for them now, because Caroline's Dad died and her Mom has moved to be near and helps out with the children. I thought that when Elle…" Spencer suddenly stopped himself, perhaps he shouldn't speculate.

"Please go on Spencer, this is a private conversation and it'll go no further than this room," assured the older man, who was intrigued about what Reid had picked up within the wider department of the BAU.

"When Elle left, I thought Barry was considering re-applying for the team again because he's getting bored with being office bound. Emily's arrival was unannounced and a surprise to both Hotch and Gideon."

"They told you that?"

"Of course not! I can read Hotch, and I also over heard him ask Gideon if he'd agreed her placement…Gideon was as surprised as Hotch about her sudden appearance. Something was going on and Hotch didn't like it because Hotch and Gideon like to choose their team members. I don't like things like that happening as it upsets the balance of the team…We've not talked about it behind Emily's back, but if I read that then so did everyone else because that's profiling and we don't switch off. Anyway, it's probably been all resolved by now as I've been out of things…Did Barry take my place?"

"He has on a few occasions but I don't think he and Morgan got on that well, so they've been working 'one man down'," replied Arthur. "Barry was part of the original team when you first started and Terry replaced him when Barry wanted more regular hours?" Arthur asked, clarifying the matter for his own mind.

"Yeah, both nice guys. Gideon always said that if Barry wanted to return to fieldwork, and there was a vacancy, then he'd be happy to have him back. But that was all before the Boston bomb and Gideon lost his team and the unit was given a new leader," reflected Spencer, remembering fallen colleagues.

"Do you have happy memories of working with that team?" asked Arthur, genuinely interested because they had never spoken about them before.

"Yeah, it was very different, it was an all male team so it had a different feel to it. They were also a lot older…I was the youngest, but Barry was 37 when I started and left less than a year later. Terry was 41, and of course Gideon was 50, and everyone else had been hand picked by him and were all in their late 40s. The age span is much wider in the present team and, of course, there are the ladies…Then, there was the addition of Garcia. Vernon took promotion and went to work in computer security…Garcia was Hotch's choice," said Spencer with a grin, "It took sometime for Gideon to get use to Garcia!" he ended with a flourish.

"Well, she does tend to be a little over powering and a law unto herself at times," replied Arthur, his mind suddenly filled with the vivid larger than life woman.

"She has a heart of gold," said Spencer quietly, "She's a comforter eater and usually knows all the gossip, despite the hours she spends in her lair...er…room!"

"And you consider her a friend, despite her propensity for gossip?" enquired the older man, amused by this unlikely friendship.

"Penelope knows when to hold her tongue, she can be trusted," asserted the patient, with an air of conviction that spoke volumes about the level of trust between these two colleagues.

Arthur might have wanted to know more but he sensed that whatever secrets had been shared, they were not going to be brought out into the open in this room.

"Do you think you got on better with the old team than the present one?" Arthur suddenly asked.

Spencer looked at him sharply, "It's nearly three years since the bombing incident, it was a different time then and you can't compare them really and I'm also older."

"You're older but you've not answered my question. Considering, by your own admission, it takes you time to trust people… You really have not behaved, with the present team, how perhaps Hotch would have anticipated, considering that you had …what almost 2 years with them?" pressed Arthur, who was not going to be fobbed off with one of Reid's seemingly reasonable replies.

Spencer felt trapped and the psych opposite knew it. He sighed and replied honestly to the question.

"I miss the old team, I was just beginning to feel comfortable with them when they died…and Gideon was no longer the leader. I then had to get use to Hotch, who had a fine reputation in other fields, as well as receiving profiling training with the original Behavioural Unit, long before we got our fancy offices and did team field work. Hotch had also worked with Gideon in the past, when he'd called in Gideon to help on cases where he was then based. Hotch has been very much the career FBI agent, he remarked to Morgan that being at Quantico was the longest he'd been in a place."

"You were ill, you said, when the Boston case occurred" Arthur said, trying to get the patient back on track.

"Yeah, flu followed by a chest infection," confirmed the young man.

"Flu can leave people feeling quite low for weeks…and to have your work place shook up by such a distressing incident," Arthur gently said, "You were quite upset by it all, weren't you?"

"Of course I was. They were my colleagues…they used to tease me at times for my spouting facts…but you could tell, there was nothing malicious in that …it became a sort of light relief for the team when the cases were pretty gruesome,"

Arthur nodded sadly. He'd not known Spencer then, but he was sure that the psych, that dealt with his mandatory sessions, had never made any mention of possible mild depression following the destruction of the team. For Arthur, here was another tiny piece in the jigsaw to explain Reid's behaviour with the new team, alongside what would have been a typically cautious reaction to new colleagues. Max was right; they as an organisation had not helped this young agent adjust, and his reactions to the loss of respected colleagues had gone unnoticed.

"So, Gideon returning was very comforting for you?" said Arthur with understanding and accepted the assertive nod. The very lack of verbal reply showed that the sadness still went deep…those men had been his friends as well. Had Max also realised that besides Gideon still hurting and afraid to allow the present team to get close to him, his protégé also was equally afraid; everyone Spencer allowed to get close disappeared from his life. For Reid, Gideon's return to the team was something to treasure for the reminder it also gave of his former colleagues.

"No one saw that you needed to grieve did they?" Arthur perceptively asked.

"No," the patient quietly admitted, "I worked my way through it, but I still think of them. Sometimes, when Gideon and I are on our own, we'll share a memory of the old team. It's good that we don't forget them, but it's not right that the present one should be overshadowed by our memories…that's the past," Reid said, with insight to his own position. Spencer knew it was all tied up with how he just went back to being Gideon's protégé, and coasting in a role that really must have seemed odd to Hotch at the very least. He wondered if Gideon and Hotch had ever talked about it and thinking about it now, Reid was amazed that he'd kept his place on the team.

"I'm glad that at least you and Gideon are able to share memories about them…that's beneficial for both of you,"

"Yeah," said Reid softly, "I want to play a little more music now," and he positioned the lute once more. Arthur sat back knowing that music was essential to this patient's coping mechanism and let the complex compositions of John Dowland soothe the souls of both men.

An hour later, Glen interrupted the performance and they went off to the summons of dinner. Neither man really felt like talking. They ate Hilary's superb chicken roast with lightly steamed vegetables and spoke very little, keeping the conversation superficial and touching trivial non-personal matters. Max returned to find them eating ice cream with a definite subdued air at their table. The Head Psych declined dinner, but accepted coffee and turned to Spencer when it arrived.

"Would you like a rest from us, perhaps to swim…Glen told me you've not been swimming for a few days and apparently they're keeping the pool open tonight, as several patients would like to relax there," Max explained and was pleased when he saw the dark eyes come alive.

"Yeah, I guess we've had some pretty intense sessions this week. It'll be good to exercise in water."

"Excellent, swimming is a marvellous all round exercise, and will relax those muscles from my stretching your legs at pace this morning!" Max replied good-humouredly.

Spencer finished his coffee and excused himself from the table, he found that there were already 3 others in the spacious pool when he got there but he was not bothered. The patient hoped that he could tire his body so that he would sleep soundly that night.

Max and Arthur finished their coffee and made there way back to their assigned bedroom, as soon as the door was shut, Max turned and asked,

"What was that about?"

"Nobody picked up that Reid was grieving for the old team…he'd been off with flu and complications, so it tipped him into mild depression," summed up the gentle Arthur.

"Oh shit!" exclaimed Max throwing up his hands in exasperation, "Who was his psych then?"

Max couldn't believe the incompetence amongst the psych staff. He was beginning to wonder if he could delegate any work with confidence.

Arthur reached for his briefcase and brought out a file with a familiar stock FBI cover. He leafed through a few pages, "Evan Teale, immediately after his return and then, 6 months follow up, with Daniel Yarrow…Neither of which make any mention of possible mild depression." Arthur continued to read, "No, absolutely nothing that gives the impression that Reid was particularly affected by loosing the whole team, but he does show concern for the well being of Gideon."

"Well, I suppose it could've been worse. I take it Daniel picked up the concern for Gideon?"

Arthur nodded. It wasn't often that Max got angry but he could be hell when crossed.

"Thank God Teale's retired, but he should've known better with his experience." Max muttered and sat down on his bed, running his left hand through his salt and pepper hair, "We're damn lucky we didn't loose him…He's very sensitive and I'm glad he's got such a strong inner core, but I'm ashamed that we didn't support him. I suppose he has come to recognise the depression for what it was?"

"Oh yes, but it all comes together a bit more clearly now. The old team accepting part of his behaviour as light relief and Reid playing to that…Oh, he did admit that much. It also explains why it has persisted…because it worked to lighten things with the old team, he thought it would have a similar role with the new." Arthur continued to sum up the situation as he saw it for his boss.

"Of course he would and no one called him up over it. Then Gideon's return meant he tried to ease his old boss back into his new role, by returning to the role of protégé, which also acted as part of his own security blanket with the new team. But we've only just started to unravel this! When you consider Reid's problems with attachment disorder, to lose his friendly colleagues all at once must have been devastating…He trusted them and suddenly he was alone again and must have felt very abandoned because no one at work realised that he was hurting so much. I bet he also felt some 'survivor guilt' as well. Reid may not have been there, but I wonder if he ever thought perhaps if he had been, he might have helped Gideon to interpret the bomber differently?

I wonder if Gideon had thought it out? If he had, he may have been reluctant to upset Reid by re-buffing his behaviour when the young man was being kind and helping him re-adjust in the only way Reid could think of. But then again, Gideon has never made any note in Reid's file about him grieving for the old team," explained Max, in a distant voice like he was verbalising his thought patterns for his fellow psych.

"It's all quite complicated really isn't it? I mean now we know, and this was all on top of an attachment disorder which Gideon hadn't touched upon…But there again, Spencer's an expert at using his intelligence as a smoke screen," Arthur quietly added, "It's all rather typical of the man…you know, he's his own worst enemy."

Max looked up and eyed his fellow psych, he shook his head at the mess they were uncovering and it all revealed poor practice from so-called experienced psychologists. He still couldn't understand how Gideon had not picked up on the attachment disorder…Perhaps Arthur was right, Spencer could even guard his inner self from his mentor. But there was also a part of Gideon, which Max suspected, just accepted the practised story Reid usually told about his childhood. Everyone on the Mental Health team knew about the childhood bullying, but that lead to a tendency to explain everything else in relation to those experiences.

Max didn't like Gideon, he suspected it was mutual, but within the Bureau they were professionally very correct with each other. He actually had more respect for Hotchner, perhaps because he felt he could trust him. There was something about Gideon that left Max uneasy, perhaps because he was still called in to work for the CIA. Max felt that you shouldn't serve two masters…perhaps that was the root of the problem. The CIA was an organisation that he knew too much about from personal experience, but then he'd changed direction in his career; Max now gave his talents to what many saw as the rival organisation.

While Max acknowledged to himself that because he didn't like Jason Gideon, he also tried to be seen to be fair. However, did that also mean that sometimes he too gave Gideon the benefit of the doubt in order to be seen to be fair? Over the years, the two psychologists had disagreed but this time, over Reid's treatment and recovery schedule, Max had won the argument. Gideon had wanted to play an integral part in the 'recovery programme' and tried to convince influential voices at the Bureau. However, the Director supported Max's arguments, that Gideon was too close to the trauma itself.

The Director was very concerned with the most recent weekly update on the agent's progress. He had been persuaded to bend the rules to employ the genius and now he was very worried about Max's criticisms of the training and lack of overview of the BAU procedures. Gideon was coming up to retirement age and the Director wanted to give the profiler a little leeway: he may not be as good as he used to be, but he still had a lot to offer the FBI. He had discussed offering Gideon teaching at the academy on retirement, but Max wasn't sure the Bureau should extend his time out in the field.

"Are you going to write a report on this or do you want me to?" enquired Arthur, breaking Max's brooding silence

"I'll do it, you go off to the lounge…Sorry, Arthur, I didn't mean that to sound like an order but I'm pretty annoyed with things at the moment…not you. I'm best left on my own for a couple of hours…I'd be shut in the den if at home," the Head Psych confessed, but the other man understood.

"I'll go and read my book in a quiet corner downstairs," replied Arthur, picking up his tome and leaving his boss to do the paper work.

Meanwhile, Spencer Reid was mechanically swimming lengths of the pool, occasionally changing his strokes, but he just wanted to get tired in the hope of sleeping through the night. Arthur had managed to open up old wounds and he wondered what clues the man had seen to go in that direction. He had to admit that Max deserved his reputation for being shrewd and committed to the care of agents.

Choosing both Arthur and Don had been a masterstroke of expertise: Reid couldn't totally manipulate either and they had broken down his layers of armour that he had carefully constructed over the years.

The warm water soothed his emaciated body and supported it gently as the swimmer steadily began another length. He was fitter than when he first arrived, but he knew the foot injury had prevented some exercise in the early weeks here. Once the protective cast was off, which had allowed the sole of his foot to heal, physiotherapy had included pool time and walking. Everything was on hand here; he wondered just how expensive this facility was although the Bureau was paying for it all. Spencer did have a specialised health insurance in case he did develop schizophrenia, which was recommended by the Bennington Sanatorium, should he ever need the care they offered.

The administrator at Bennington had understood his concerns but he had also tried to re-assure Reid that he was almost out of the most likely age group for a male to develop schizophrenia. Spencer was well aware of the statistics and he'd read all the literature, but a 10 risk of genetic mental disease was always there at the back of his mind. Gideon usually chided him when he quoted that figure and automatically reminded him that it also meant that there was a 90 possibility that he would not be like his mother. Spencer understood the statistics, but this was about his life and what he'd witnessed as a child. A very secret part of him admitted to himself, that if he did develop the disease, then he would want to take his own life. He wouldn't want to be a burden nor lost to some inner world of torment…However, would he be aware enough to make such a decision if it came to that? Reid came to the end of the pool and changed from breaststroke to crawl.

Terry, Ben, Jack, Len…they had been a good team, they had their way of working with Gideon that came out of years of trust, that enabled them to read each others unspoken instructions. When Gideon returned on the Seattle case, Spencer had been truly puzzled by his mentor suddenly introducing him as 'Dr. Reid'. Gideon had not done that with the old team, it was so unlike Gideon's previous behaviour that Reid had even asked Hotch why he was doing it. Hotch's reply was that Gideon knew people saw him as a kid and he wanted to make sure that they respected him. Reid wondered if it was also a reminder, of his academic accomplishments, for the present team as well as the Seattle agents.

But to Reid the new team had been brought together quickly after the loss of experienced people. These new people were much younger and under an agent, who was by appearance, the epitome of the public's idea of a FBI man. This group had no history of working previously together, so they all were strangers feeling their way to establish working relationships. Hotch was every inch the leader and experienced agent, Morgan had been in the Bureau several years. J.J. had experience in her field, although in actual time at the Bureau, it was a similar time span to Reid…perhaps she was his senior by 6 months in Bureau employment. Reid turned again; he raised his body in the effort to do a length of butterfly.

It was interesting, the swimmer reflected, he always thought of the old team by their first names now…he hadn't when they had been together. It was one of those rules in the work place; women colleagues could by called by their first names if they wished, although some senior colleagues preferred to call all the agents under them by the surname. Hotch tended to call the women on the team by their first names…Well he didn't when Emily first arrived, but then the team knew she was staying when he began to use her given name. However, everyone knew they were in trouble if Hotch ever called you Agent Reid or Agent Prentiss. Somehow, Penelope Garcia was Garcia to everyone at the Bureau, her flamboyant personality was known throughout the labyrinth of corridors. Then there was J.J…no one ever called her Jennie because she firmly announced that she was 'J.J.' He had always been Reid to the old team, they had never called him Spencer. Gideon sometimes did if having a private conversation in his office, but to the team he was just Reid, their genius…Yes, it had been very odd when Gideon returned and he suddenly started introducing him as Dr. Reid…

"Spencer! Man, you training for the Olympics?" asked Glen as he reached the pool end again, "Time to get out, you must have done near on 50 lengths this evening."

Spencer did as he was told and went and got dried and changed. Reid felt pleasingly tired by the time he'd got back to his bedroom, he quickly changed into the night- clothes provided by the Clinic and settled into his bed. Sleep seemed to come quickly; Spencer was once again reminded of the original team he had worked with.

The smiling face of Terry Olivera turned to him, encouraging him to join in their poker game…the guys soon regretted that one, but then the games were fun with an element of cheating amongst all the players. It was a dollar to join a game and then they played with plastic chips, everyone starting with the same amount. It meant that 5 people playing earned a charity $5; it may not sound very much, but they sometimes played 4 or 5 games on a flight so the dollars soon mounted and all monies went to the charity they were supporting that year. The charity was chosen on the first day in January that the team was working, and they were only allowed to play on the plane home. Gideon usually kept an eye on matters, peering over his spectacles pretending to be above the creative cheating that he was witnessing. Gideon also took the money and kept it in a separate account so it also earned interest throughout the year.

The scene changed and Ben Watkins' concerned dark brown face looked down at him as he lay on his back staring up at the vivid blue and cloudless sky. Reid's head was pounding, his jaw was throbbing; he felt disorientated…

"Reid, Reid…Do you think you can make it to the car? That was one hell of a left hook that floored you!" the voice penetrated the pains that were now radiating in several parts of his body that had also been subjected to a man's fists.

"I think we'll have you checked out at the nearest hospital but it's a good hour's drive back into town…"

"He OK?" he heard Leonard Goldberg's voice to his right side, but it made him feel sick when he tried to move his head.

"I think there's some concussion…I mean that Gilbert's built like a tank…" replied Ben, feeling for his pulse on the neck.

"Come on we can't leave him here, it'll take an ambulance longer than an hour to get here and then it'll have to take this dirt track very carefully…" counselled Len.

"What about an air ambulance?" suggested Ben.

"Watkins, he's been floored by the unsub's fist, he's not been stabbed or shot…he's probably got mild concussion from hitting his head on this stony ground and bruising and…Oh shit!" Len muttered, as Reid rolled over and was sick all over Len's fancy Italian shoes.

The noise was horrendous, hammering away on his eardrums in competition to the bashing rhythms going on inside his skull. He forced his eyes to briefly open, the effort made them water with the pain going on inside his head. Len was squeezing his cold hand and trying to say something, but he couldn't hear over the noise of the helicopter…Reid had never felt so much pain before…He closed his eyes and tried to shut it all out.

Jack Moreton's smooth shiny head always reminded Reid of his geography teacher, Mr. Knusson, it was totally without hair. Jack told him, soon after he'd joined the team, that he'd gone bald at 30. It was a male family trait, but it had never stopped Jack being attractive towards the ladies. Jack was like the T.V. Kojak character, he even had a love of lollipops and then there were the boiled sweets…In fact, anything he could suck that was hard and sweet. Jack hated chocolate and chewing gum…but the car was always full of sweet papers…it used to drive Gideon crazy!

He felt exhausted with all the coughing, he couldn't sleep and things were getting worse not better. The doctor had decided, 4 days ago, that he had a secondary chest infection after flu. Today, the practise nurse was not very pleased with the young doctor, her whole stance had mirrored her concern for Reid when he turned up for the second time in under a week and he seemed worse.

Reid overheard her whispering to the receptionist, "Dr. Bryant is wrong to think that this young man's malingering…he's worse, it's not just a cough. Can you hear that rattle, Iris? I'm telling you, he needs taking care of or he'll get pneumonia…"

The doctor's buzzer sounded and Iris looked up and smiled kindly in her motherly way at Reid, "Dr. Bryant will see you now, Mr. Reid…" and Spencer dragged his weary body into the consulting room.

After a taxi ride home, Reid had fallen into an exhausted sleep on his couch with his television still senselessly trying to entertain the sick man. When he awoke, several hours later, he rolled over to the sound of the news headlines declaring the tragic loss of FBI agents in Boston. Spencer felt numb as he sat and watched the pictures of the shocked and blood stained Gideon being escorted through the crowd of reporters, who were thrusting microphones into his distraught face and shouting questions about the loss of his team.

"Dr. Gideon…How do you feel about the bomb that exploded? Did you know that it was unsafe?"

"Why hadn't the bomb squad cleared the area first before your team…?"

"Had you ordered your team in?"

"Had Adrian Bale been searched before your team went in?"

"Dr. Gideon! Dr. Gideon," the cacophony of demanding voices surrounded the man, as other law enforcement agents tried to get him through the throng to the safety of a car with dark windows that would provide some privacy for the occupants.

Such inane questions…poor Gideon, he'd never seen him look broken before…but what had happened? All the questions bubbled up…If he'd not been sick, he would've been in Boston with them…It might not have happened if he'd been there…All of them dead…Oh God, all his friends in one go…Poor Gideon! He moved to get up and his legs buckled under him. Reid felt so tired and weak and …why hadn't he been there to help Gideon. He searched for another news station and a further report on the incident…Reid sat spell-bound watching the reporting of the Boston Bomber on the couch, with a blanket around his shaking shoulders. He wept for the loss of the team he had once been a part of, and for the men who had given him their friendship…If he had been with them perhaps things would have turned out differently…

Spencer woke to the quiet of his clinic room, the soft gentle light of the corridor seeped through the opaque glass in the door. He squinted at the wall clock: green numerals silently told him it was 04:48.

He reached up and touched his face with his hands. Spencer wiped away the tears that he had wept, even in his sleep…Reid still missed those men, but for Gideon the loss must be even more acute and yet he made it back to the BAU…Reid had not caused the death of a team member had he? Was he at fault over the Randall Garner case because he'd written a little about the team? His mother called his work his adventures; he never told her the details of cases just where they went and if they had a successful outcome. But then he'd also written what he thought were little harmless facts about J.J. liking butterflies and Gideon…. But Randall Garner, with his own twisted mind had listened to Diana Reid's ramblings, and had set his own quest for the team to solve. Garner had used all his undoubted intelligence to gain information, which had put everyone in the team at risk, with all the extra personal details he had hacked from the FBI computer database. Poor Elle…she had been shot…she lost her confidence in the very work she did…it was his fault…He'd failed to help Elle.

The patient tossed restlessly for another two hours, not able to sleep with the vivid sounds and pictures his memory would never forget. There had been happy times with the team but why was it, when he was under stress, that he more often remembered how he heard of their deaths.

When the clock read 07:00, Reid turned on his bedside light and got up before the duty nurse came. When he returned from having a shower, he noticed that the room's central light had been turned on and the bedside one off. He sauntered along towards the dining room and Tom, CIA, noticed Reid and waited for him to catch up.

"I'm glad I've seen you, you're looking better," he quietly said, the words only meant for Spencer's hearing, "You're holding yourself in a more positive manner and you're no longer trying to melt into the walls. I'm leaving today after breakfast, I just wanted to say that you'll make it out of here…I can give you a good 15 years, but there's a strength in you that I think a casual acquaintance wouldn't see. Still waters run deep huh?"

Spencer gave this quiet powerful man a shy smile, "I've managed to survive a lot so far…guess I'm not ready to give in yet," he replied.

"That's the attitude to have. Let them help you get out of here but remember, these people can only work with a person's innate strengths to balance the weaknesses we perceive in ourselves. The FBI wouldn't have wasted money sending you here unless they wanted to get you back with them…There are always people wanting to work in our respective organisations…and they only pick the best." Tom said, as they approached the dining room; the smell of pancakes was already escaping the kitchen.

"Good luck, Tom," said Spencer as they entered, and really felt quite touched by the older man's words of encouragement. He had been measuring his progress against Tom's and now his going provided Reid with an extra boost of determination, especially after a night of vivid dreaming.

Arthur was waiting for him at the breakfast table, once more eating pancakes with a stewed apple filling, and he noticed the coffee pot was already in place.

"Morning," the older man beamed, "Sleep well?" he asked, but Arthur had already come to his own conclusions even if the staff on duty had not logged any incident.

"If you must know, I dreamt about the old team," replied Spencer honestly, and Arthur noted the hint of fighting spirit in the young man.

"I'm not surprised, Max was furious when he found out how the psychs had failed to pick up on your distress," whispered Arthur, and stopped as he eyed Christine making her way towards them.

"Good morning, Spencer," she chimed, "now what would you like for breakfast?"

"A couple of Hilary's special pancakes, please," he replied, and then deliberately gave her one of his devastating smiles.

"Wow, now that'll please her," Christine replied, and smiled broadly in return.

"She's a bit too old for you," Arthur suddenly said, as he poured his patient a mug of coffee.

"Have you ever thought that perhaps I'm practising my technique for when I get out of here," Spencer replied, in a teasing tone that Arthur couldn't remember hearing before. He wondered just what was going on in Spencer's mind; perhaps he had a plan to manipulate Max like he tried to manipulate everyone else.

"Is Max joining us for breakfast?" Spencer enquired, as he began to sip the coffee and he hoped that he'd get in two mugs before the end of the meal.

"Max always gets up early and prepares his own breakfast of toast and honey. I left him in our room because he had some calls to make."

Christine arrived with the freshly prepared pancakes and Spencer began to eat.

"So who's taking the session this morning?" Spencer finally asked, when he only had a couple of mouthfuls of breakfast left.

"Max," said Arthur softly. He'd been observing Reid all through the meal and he was finding him difficult to read this morning. He looked tired and he wondered how much sleep he had managed and yet there seemed a different strength in the patient today. Arthur concluded that Spencer was probably rebuilding some of his defences. The older psych hoped that the outcome was going to be a better-balanced personality after the talks that the mental health team had had with him.

Spencer poured himself another mug of coffee, and was pleased that the day looked dry and with a promise of sun. A walk to the trees was inevitable, but he hoped that he'd be able to keep down the delicious breakfast he had just eaten.

Arthur's cell buzzed and he answered it quickly, "Yes, …yes,…I'll tell him,"

"My orders?" Spencer asked, with a twinkle to the dark eyes.

"Yes, Max will meet you by the garden door in 10 minutes…"

Spencer smiled, "Right, I'll go and find a warmer sweater, Max doesn't like to be kept waiting," he said, rising from the table, "Have a good morning, Arthur,"

"I'll try to," Arthur replied, but he couldn't help feeling that Spencer was coming out fighting and he hoped that this time they had managed to reach the bottom of Reid's problems, before he rebuilt his fortress even stronger than before.

Max was waiting for the patient by the door.

"I'm sorry, have I kept you waiting?" asked Spencer, with an old fashioned courtesy that was rarely heard these days.

"No, not at all, I was early. Looks like a nice day for a walk," Max stated, opening the door and stepping out with the eagerness of a man who liked his regular exercise.

"So, how did you sleep?" he asked as they stepped out to take the longer route to the trees.

"I slept until nearly 5…I dreamt of the old team as I'm sure that you and Arthur anticipated."

"Yes, but were they good memories?"

"For the most part yes…At the end…I woke up because I relived the time I discovered what had happened in Boston," Spencer replied honestly. Spencer, the psychologist, knew that he must not deceive this person if he really wanted to mend and get back to his career with the BAU.

"Tell me, how you found out…" the older man commanded, but there was a sadness that he could not disguise. Spencer spoke about his feelings and the isolation of sitting there sick, in his apartment, and no one had bothered to call him from the department…

"I think that hurt a lot at the time, but as I recovered from the infection, I saw it in a different light. I mean, everyone must have been in shock and I'd been off sick, and I'm not a very extrovert person, so it was natural for people to forget about me."

"Spencer, what happened was appalling and you should've been told by the acting section head…but it didn't happen. Too many things were not done properly where you're concerned, but like you said, everyone was in shock…I guess the organisation itself is to blame; we had a tendency to think that Gideon was invincible."

"No one's invincible," replied Spencer softly, remembering the look of devastation on his mentor's face.

"No, not even a genius like you," Max said with compassion.

"Not even me, but it's hard when you set yourself high standards…I think with the reputation Gideon had, it must have been very easy to slip into thinking that his word was gospel and unchallengable," replied Reid, thinking of the times he had challenged Gideon.

"There's where the actual danger lies, an agent gains a reputation of success…Oh, they do have their failures, but successes always outshine the ones where the case remained unsolved or a wrong decision was made in the field." Max stated, pleased that Reid was speaking with reflection about past events and coherently arguing with him.

"But that is the challenge of fieldwork; you do have to make decisions in the field, which with hindsight you might have not taken or have done differently. Hotch is very good at having follow up sessions to see if the team could have done things differently." Reid evenly replied.

"But did Gideon do that on a regular basis?" Max shot back.

"No, but then the majority of the team had been working with him for some time and there was a level of unspoken trust in the decision making. He would talk to me on the plane journeys home about the cases, but it was not as a whole group." Spencer conceded and realised just how sloppy things had become within the old team. 'Familiarity breeds contempt', thought Spencer sadly; just as a man's reputation might begin to be a disadvantage, if it tipped in to professional arrogance.

Spencer felt a chill air wrap itself around him, and he knew that once more he had walked into the trees without consciously thinking because his mind was occupied elsewhere. He tried to concentrate on controlling his breathing, but he felt his heart pulling at the constraints he was trying to impose. His stomach muscles began to twist in on themselves, but Spencer thought of the encouraging words Tom had given him earlier. Agent Reid had to fight this; the smell of the damp air filled his nostrils, he opened his mouth and the air raced down his throat. But he would not be sick; he felt cold and shaky but he'd not be sick…

"Let's go now," Max gently said, but this time he did not give a comforting touch. Instead, he watched the man beside him, reach for his own inner strength and harnessed it. Max was pleased, finally Spencer Reid was using all his knowledge on himself. The patient looked pale and the hands trembled a little, but he was beginning to gain in confidence at handling this fear.

They walked in silence to the seat. Spencer sat down and let go of the tension he had experienced.

"You're doing very well, Spencer," Max praised, "I know you're feeling the rising panic but you're gaining the confidence to manage it."

Spencer listened but it worried him on one level, "Perhaps," he said softly, "my success so far will give me a false sense of security, and the time I don't manage to control the rising fear, then the panic will be even greater."

"Like I said at the beginning, sometimes you will manage the panic and they'll be others that you'll not do so well. But it is these successes that you must remember, and the more you face these dark trees and damp, dank smelling leaves…the better those memories of success."

"But it seems to be going too well?" Reid argued, and Max sighed, here was an intelligent man who liked to analyse every situation.

"Spencer, sometimes you have to stop that brain of your analysing too much. It stops you acting spontaneously, it stops you acting intuitively or perhaps as a man you'd prefer the word instinctively…" Max watched the pale underweight man think about the words he had said.

"Yeah, I was over analysing shooting my weapon, but when I had to use it in an apparently impossible situation…I stopped analysing and the brain let all that practising surface and take the one necessary shot."

"Yes, Hotch knew you were analysing too much and he utterly trusted your ability to shoot that weapon…Did you know that incident was the talk of the gun range for weeks!"

Spencer turned and looked at the older man with incredulity, his eyes like saucers in their disbelief.

Max laughed; he really enjoyed getting to know Spencer, he was such a complex mix of enormous intelligence coupled with naivety. He shook his head; Reid had no idea that senior department heads were fascinated at times by the exploits of this young man. Hotchner liked to quietly tell his side of the story, always stressing how unassuming the young agent was. The story of the train carriage siege was a particular favourite of the Director's because the agent had revealed his magical ability and he had gone in unarmed. Fortunately, despite Bryars shooting his doctor and the passenger, Anderson, shooting Bryars, there had only been one fatality and not the carnage there could have been.

"You're highly thought of both within the BAU and within the upper echelons of the Bureau Spencer, that's why we're are spending all this time with you. We're giving you our best shot…I just feel so guilty that the Bureau has let you down in the past and I'll try and not let that happen again." Max reminded the patient again; he didn't want any self-doubt ruining what he was rebuilding.

"You know, profiling isn't perfect so there's always the possibility of error," Spencer began.

"Yes, but you're dealing with human beings and they can act in unpredictable ways," said Max, wondering where Spencer was going with that statement.

"But when you're out in the field, you have to trust your instincts and sometimes the profiling is wrong…"

"Are you thinking of something in particular?" probed Max.

"Ted Bryars and the train siege…We profiled all the other passengers and Gideon was so dismissive of Harold Anderson; I was so shocked when he shot Bryars…You know, I was already wrestling with Bryars for the gun, when suddenly this shot came from nowhere! I had believed Gideon's profile because on paper it seemed reasonable to believe that Anderson was not the type to take a chance. Then Gideon burst through the door…he looked terrible. Gideon didn't know what he was going to find in the carriage, but he still had to come. I think he thought the worst after the gunfire, but everything worked out in the end,"

"You were very brave to volunteer to go in,"

"Or very foolish! I mean, I had this idea. My colleagues told me to go in and get out as soon as I could and not to take off the vest. So what's the first thing that happens…I have to take off the vest because Bryars insisted. Then he wanted me to turn the 'microchip' on when I'd got it out of his arm…Do you know, I hadn't anticipated that …I went totally blank…I guess it was sheer fear. But Elle, bless her, fed me a line…and I grasped it and hung on for dear life and then Bryars wouldn't let me go. The rest of the team must have been frantic…They had no idea what was going on; they could see part of the carriage but there was no sound to go with the pictures."

"But that still does not lessen the fact that you volunteered to go in to try and talk to a paranoid schizophrenic…"

"Yeah, but remember, my Mom was one, and living with her was scary at times, and I thought that experience would help me cope with Bryars…and it did. I pretended to be able to see Leo…just like at times, I appeased my Mom by pretending to see Beatrice and Dante."

Max sat back, remembering how horrified Don had been when he recalled the things Spencer had told him about his childhood.

"I think Spencer, with you it's a case that you dare to go where angels fear to tread!" said Max, "Let's walk back and get a warm drink and perhaps Christine or Hilary has refilled the cookie tin."

"You're beginning to sound like Arthur, see what happens when you have to share a room with someone…" Reid replied cheekily and gave Max a boyish grin.

They set off once more towards the Clinic, but Max thought how much this genius unselfishly gave of himself but didn't naturally enjoy the limelight.

Spencer disappeared into the bathroom as Max made the coffee. He stared at his reflection as he washed his hands. He looked tired but disturbing dreams were nothing new…all the team experienced them sometimes, but for Spencer he now had a new set of nightmares to haunt his sleeping hours. He dried his hands carefully and went to take up his place on the inviting couch.

"It's good that you decided your stomach could take coffee this time," Max said, with a smile as he placed a plate of assorted chocolate and plain cookies along with a couple of raspberry muffins on the table.

"I felt shaky but I don't think my stomach is reacting in the same way it did yesterday, I didn't taste stomach acid this time," Spencer clarified, choosing a chocolate cookie to eat with his coffee.

"Good, but once you leave here, the reaction might be different and as you'll probably be on your own…Well, you might re-act differently, we just don't know until it happens," cautioned Max with an honesty Reid appreciated.

"Did you have bad flashbacks when you went home…?"

"Yes, I was lucky because often Anna was around, but not always," Max confided, "I felt so relieved to get home because it's an important step towards normality. Then when I had a panic attack, that left me curled up screaming for the images to stop, I felt I was going backwards and I'd be taken into hospital again. It didn't happen, I called my psych. who came and talked with me, just like we talk with you, and everything was put into perspective again.

The worst of the Post Traumatic Stress symptoms can persist for some time; a minimum of 3 months, the average is 4, but sometimes it can take longer. There is no competition as to how soon you can get back to work and even when you return, you might not be part of the field team straight away. What's important is that you feel you're coping with the PTSD, it affects people differently and their responses are equally different. You'll find your own way of coping with the memories. They will never disappear, they are part of your life but if you can accept that, then the instances of violent memory seem to lessen in frequency but they never go totally…Mine are still with me as I think I've already told you."

"Yeah, I'm grateful for your honesty but I guess I'll just have to experience things as they happen and hope that others will understand if they witness the changes in me…"

"Your colleagues will understand, certainly Hotch and Gideon will because I know that they have both experienced Post Traumatic Stress…"

"Hotch?" said Spencer, surprised at this revelation.

"Yes, I can't talk about his case, but he has been understanding to other agents who have worked under him after a bout of Post Traumatic Stress. You shouldn't concern yourself with your colleagues' re-actions…they'll just be pleased that you've gone back to the department. Hotch will probably prepare the team before you return and tell them to not expect you to bounce back to the old Reid immediately…But you've changed anyway, they're going to adjust to the man you've now become."

"Whoever that is," replied Spencer ruefully.

"Spencer, the agent who returns to the BAU, will be the man who has been waiting to emerge from the wings. The trauma of Georgia has catapulted that man into the centre stage now because that's the Spencer who survived torture at the hands of a totally unstable man…You'll be more mature, but there'll still be parts of the old Spencer that they recognise." Max confidently stated and Spencer thought about his analysis; he knew there could be no going back to the pre-Georgia Reid.

Max let the man quietly mull over the conversation. The Head Psych was satisfied that Reid was mending, but the real test would be when he went back home and finally when he returned to Quantico. Max hoped that they would get Reid back home soon, perhaps 8 weeks after the traumatic events of Georgia.

End of Chapter 11.


	12. Chapter 12

The In-Between Times: Chapter 12 

**By Helena Fallon**

"So, you got any ideas about what sort of shirts you'd like to buy?" asked Arthur, as they drove into the car park at the enormous shopping mall. They had had an uneventful 30 minutes drive here from the Clinic and Spencer had been content to just watch the scenery along the way. Arthur had not pressed him to talk; he usually tuned out his wife when he was driving so he could give all his attention to the road. It was refreshing to have a passenger who was not constantly chatting or demanding answers to questions. Spencer had seemed happy to choose a CD and sit back to listen to Bach violin sonatas playing quietly in the car.

"Mmm, Sorry Arthur, I was miles away," the young man said, suddenly realising that the atmosphere had changed a little and a question hung in the air.

Arthur swung the car into a parking space before answering.

"I asked if you had any ideas about the kind of shirts you wanted to buy?"

"Oh, I guess my favourite colours and perhaps I'll look at some new sweaters…I feel the cold a lot because I'm so thin," he replied, reaching into his inside coat pocket, feeling for his wallet and his credit card. Arthur had brought them from his apartment ready for this shopping day, a day that marked a step towards re-entering the real world again.

The two men got out of the car, Arthur activated the electronic locking system and they began to stroll towards the nearest entrance.

"You ever been here before?" Arthur asked, as they walked passed rows of parked vehicles.

"No, this isn't my part of the world. I shop nearer to Alexandria because I don't have much time to go too far, and we don't usually do personal shopping when on a case. You know, once we're finished, we all just want to get home,"

"Honestly, I hope that the Bureau will take a fresh look at the hours some departments work…It's a wonder we don't have a lot more people burning out due to the work load," said Arthur, shaking his head, and remembered a recent conversation with Max.

Spencer didn't feel like replying. He'd spent some time re-evaluating his life while at the Clinic and more than once concluded that he needed more of a life outside the FBI, just like the Mental Health team kept saying…

"Do you ever shop at the Farmer's Market in Alexandria?" Arthur asked, wondering just where did Spencer shop.

"Oh yeah, it's a great place when you have the time to browse, and the selection of fruit and vegetables at good prices is fantastic. I like to wonder round the crafts; there are often some unusual presents to be found," the young man replied, with an unexpected enthusiasm that took Arthur by surprise.

"You like shopping?" the older psych asked, a little bemused by Spencer's reply.

"When I've the time, I had to do the shopping when I was at home with Mom because she just couldn't cope. Even when I went to the university, when I came home at the weekends, I'd go and do her weekly shop otherwise she'd not do it herself or tell her social worker to assign a helper. Mom just refused all help like that."

"But how did she cope when you went to Harvard?"

"I informed Social Services that I was leaving the city so they had to assign a carer to visit and shop for her. I made out a list of the things I bought weekly and those I usually got on a monthly basis and funds were assigned, via the family lawyer, to cover the amount. The shopping got done but Mom didn't necessary co-operate with the carers; she had several before I was able to have her taken into the sanatorium. She didn't always eat when I wasn't there, but I had to make a decision to have my own life or the Social Services would have just let me take the strain. As it was, I had to wait until I was of a legal age to act to have her properly assessed. The state of the house and her turbulent history, with the social workers and carers, all confirmed my assessment of the situation," replied Spencer quietly, but this was a man who now seemed more at ease talking about these past experiences.

Arthur felt pleased with the progress that the patient had made over the weeks, and he was now preparing to leave the Clinic's structured environment. Spencer had his projects from the psych team to keep him busy and to provide him with tasks that would force him to interact with the real world again. Arthur's task today was to assess how he reacted to being in a normal situation. No one knew if he would have panic attacks after such a closeted existence at the Clinic. He still showed some post trauma symptoms but that was normal for any patient, however, it was the job of the medical team to assess whether Spencer was now capable of coping alone at home. Max felt he was ready, and Spencer himself had been enthusiastic about the prospect of going back to his apartment after being away for over 2 months.

They had entered the mall and Spencer immediately noticed the shiny decoratively tiled floor in primary colours, which provided some entertainment for bored pre-school children. Several young children were jumping from one geometrical shape to another, before being called back to the side of the adult with them. Spencer spotted a little boy who was trying to only step on blue shapes, which necessitated some peculiar stepping movements…some tiny, while others stretched his legs, and his Mom protested when he twisted away from the baby's buggy he was supposed to be holding on to. Reid smiled; it brought back a happy memory of a supermarket where he had shopped with his Dad when he was around the age of 4. He loved to walk only on the black squares and while his Dad waited in the queue, he'd count the number of black squares between the checkout and the meat counter by stepping on them and saying the number as he went. Spencer liked to count in twos, then fives and threes...

Arthur had stopped by a store directory, and was looking earnestly for something that indicated men's clothing.

"We want the third level," he suddenly pronounced, which put a stop to Reid's musings about his own childhood, as Arthur strode out purposely for the escalator. Spencer quickly caught up with him and stood in single file obedience as the escalators rose to the third level.

They entered a store that oozed classic good taste; the sober dark wooden shelving displaying neatly piled sweaters and shirts, all arranged by colour so as not to create an obvious clash to offend the observer. Another area was devoted to stylish leather shoes; the staple of every successful executive. There were racks of silk ties, all very sober; some plain while others were stripped or with a tiny distinctive motif. But above all, there was nothing that might offend the boardroom meeting of the serious minded.

Arthur had stopped by the shirts, while Spencer still peered into the expanse of the inner shop where well cut business suits dressed stylised manikins.

"Are you thinking of buying a suit?" asked Arthur, following the man's gaze.

"No, I was just thinking that Hotch would feel at home here," Reid replied, with a mischievous grin.

Arthur looked at the young agent with him; he was not a Hotch. Spencer was dressed neatly but there was a casualness to his attire. Then there was the way he seemed so loose limbed compared with the upright Hotchner, who at times could make his well cut suit look like a strait jacket.

Arthur's round face split into a broad smile, and a chuckle escaped from the older man, as he realised that Spencer Reid had a very good sense of humour.

"Shirts…you know for work," Arthur said, trying to get back to the task in hand.

A dapper assistant, with thick short wavy grey hair and dressed in a dove grey suit, seemed to blend into the whole conservative image and hovered at a discreet distance, watching the incongruous pair.

Spencer walked over to the shelves of shirts and reached decisively; Arthur had not expected to find himself suddenly the human basket.

"Right, one burgundy plain, one burgundy with contrasting small charcoal check, one moss green plain, one sapphire plain, one royal blue plain, one French navy with contrasting indigo small check and one fern green plain. To the check out, Arthur!" the young man commanded with a flourish, and Arthur meekly followed wondering just when had Reid taken over this trip.

A few minutes later, they left the shop with a large shiny black carrier bag that displayed its exclusive pedigree in gold cursive writing on its surface.

"This shop looks interesting," said Spencer, suddenly veering off to the left and entering another clothing store.

"What are you looking for?" asked Arthur, trying to keep up with the younger man's pace.

"Some sweaters and knitted vests to keep me warm," he answered, looking upwards at the department signs. "Mmm…I think we'll find knitwear to the right down here."

Arthur padded after his patient like an obedient hound on a hunt. He began to wonder if Max had known that Reid liked shopping, unlike most men that Arthur knew who made such essential trips as brief and business like as possible.

Spencer Reid had found a display of various weights of sweaters and proceeded to lightly touch a selection of garments. Arthur found his actions fascinating because Spencer rarely physically touched people, but here he was touching these garments and obviously was doing so to assess their comfort for his body. He dismissed some heavy, chunky knits and concentrated upon some expensive cashmere that Arthur had to agree felt soft, even sensuous, to his finger tips.

The younger man seemed happy not to talk while he made his choices, his attention totally given to the task in hand. Reid had been a lone shopper for so long in his life, that he forgot about his companion. When Spencer had lived with his Mom, he usually had only a limited time to complete the shopping task in hand. Consequently, these constraints had taught him, at an early age, to be decisive by already knowing what he was looking for and narrowing down the choices effectively.

Once more, Arthur found himself as a manservant.

"I'll have this deep maroon vest and this forest green in the same style. I like the charcoal grey and this dark chocolate is a good colour that'll go with other trousers I've at home," he informed Arthur, as he handed him the sleeveless V necked cashmere vests.

Reid then turned his attention to the cashmere sweaters and chose two of a round-necked plain design; one black and the other, a petrol blue. He then walked round the display and concentrated on the assorted colours of the classic V necked cashmere sweaters. Arthur played a game with himself concerning the colours Spencer would choose and decided upon a dark brown and a blue or black. Reid actually took from the respective piles: a rich Richmond green, which reminded Arthur of emerald gems, an Oxford blue and a mulberry red.

"I'll have these…Oh, I'm sorry, Arthur, we should've picked up a basket," Reid suddenly apologised, moving towards him with the intention of relieving him of the knitwear he had chosen.

"May I be of assistance, gentlemen?" a melodious baritone voice enquired.

Reid turned to the assistant, "Yes…Please, I'm afraid I forgot to pick up a basket, but I do want the things my colleague is holding for me," he said, flashing his charming smile.

"That's perfectly all right, sir. We're use to gentlemen and their shopping habits here, very few gentlemen pick up a basket, but we're always ready to help," the dark suited, and solidly built sun-tanned, blond male assistant smoothly replied, and took the garments from Arthur. Spencer's eyes twinkled with amusement; he knew the carrier that Arthur was holding indicated that these men were serious shoppers, and cashmere purchases of this quality shouted money to this experienced shop worker. The further sight of a platinum credit card only confirmed the assistant's assessment of this man's spending power.

Arthur was very impressed with Spencer's dress sense; the colours and designs he had chosen were classic knitwear and would be warm and hard-wearing, as well as suiting the more 'academic' air of a young professor.

Arthur found himself with a second strong and distinctive carrier and wondered if Reid would like to stop for some coffee. However, Spencer was now heading for the first floor on the down escalator, and he had several other shoppers between them, so Arthur couldn't talk to him. He saw Reid step off but after a few steps to the right, away from the escalators, he stopped. Arthur caught up with him and felt he'd seen that look before…

"Look, a household electrical sale!" Spencer pronounced enthusiastically, "I wonder if they've the sort of lamps I'd like…"

"Spencer, we're supposed to be clothes shopping, as we seem to have completed the original task for this trip…"

"Arthur, it's a sale…I know how I want to decorate my apartment…I've been looking through all that stuff you brought for me from your home. I can't pass this by, I just might find what I'm looking for…Grab a trolley, Arthur!" Spencer said, striding purposefully across the threshold.

Arthur obediently grabbed a trolley, placed the two bulging carriers in it and set off trying to catch up with the tall thin man. 'Oh, yes,' thought Arthur, 'He should have known that look…his beloved, Susan, always had that same glint in the eye when it came to a sale. It was just something she could never pass up; the challenge of possibly finding a bargain!'

The older man caught up with his patient examining the standard lamps on display. Arthur had to concede that there was a very good selection of classic to ultra modern styles, and the prices were very competitive. He mentally made a note not to mention the word 'sale' in connection with his work today. Susan knew that Arthur was going shopping with the young agent, that he'd been working with at the Clinic, it was quite a common task before a patient was sent home.

"I like this one," Reid said, examining its adjustability, "I like the mixture of steel and oak and it seems very stable."

"Yes, it's a very good design and would fit in with most styles of furnishings," Arthur conceded, finding himself caught up with the young man's enthusiasm. Spencer went off to find an assistant and they came back with two large boxes for the trolley and suddenly another couple of smaller boxes were added.

"They're for the bedroom side tables," explained Reid. I noticed that the kitchen department has some dinner sets reduced…I'd like to take a look at those too,"

Before Arthur could reply, Reid had set off on another bargain hunt.

The young male assistant, whose name badge declared he was Darren, smiled warmly at Arthur's bemused stance.

"Your son's got excellent taste, sir," Darren said.

"He's not my son," replied Arthur firmly, as he set the trolley moving again, wondering what Reid would find in the kitchen department. Darren watched the older man depart and briefly speculated about the relationship between the two customers.

He finally found Reid heading back towards him, holding a large cardboard box and looking very satisfied with himself.

"A real find, Arthur!" he beamed, "A dinner set with 50 per cent off, it'll go well with what I intend to do with the kitchen."

"Oh, good, we…"

"Can I just go and have a quick look at the emulsion paint before we go to the checkout?" the young man pleaded, with large hurt looking puppy dog eyes.

"Spencer!…" began Arthur, with a tone of exasperation.

"But the sale finishes in two days, so by the time I get home, I won't get these sort of prices if I come back," Spencer countered, before Arthur could begin to tell him that they had gone past the agreed task of the morning.

Arthur felt caught; he had instructed him to personalise his apartment and he'd obviously given the project some serious thought. It pleased him but they were not supposed to be looking for apartment things. However, he did have a good argument concerning the savings to be made in this store.

"O.K. but then we're going back to the Clinic," Arthur firmly stated.

Spencer grinned and Arthur felt the charm of the young man melt his firm resolve; he couldn't be angry with Spencer. Arthur would have a lot to report back to Max tonight, and the older psych pushed the trolley towards the aisles of tins of various paints.

To Arthur's surprise, Spencer seemed to know what he wanted and instructed him to just stand out of the way, to one side with the trolley, while he dashed about to get the colours he had chosen. Then for the next 20 minutes, Arthur stood patiently while Spencer would occasionally re-appear carrying a couple of large tins of paint to be placed in the trolley, along with a pack of paint brushes, two rollers and a paint tray.

Finally, Spencer announced that they could go to the check out now and fortunately helped Arthur steer, the by now heavy and somewhat unwieldy trolley, to the check out queue.

As they stood in line, Arthur counted the tins of paint; 2 for the kitchen, 8 for the living room and 6 for the bedroom. This was serious decorating mused Arthur, but he was actually delighted with Reid, because Spencer had obviously every intention of changing the apartment he'd lived in for the past 5 years. Arthur had discovered a lot about the man that few would have understood, until this opportunity to shop had arisen. It wasn't that Reid did not like the thought of decorating his apartment but, that in the past, there had not been the time. He was the sort of person that didn't like to start a task and then have to leave it half finished…Spencer could be totally single minded at times, and Arthur suspected that this singled minded approach was now going to be turned on to his home, room by room.

Spencer helped Arthur manoeuvre the trolley towards the nearest exit by taking control of the front end, but suddenly he stopped his pulling on the heavy trolley. Arthur grunted to a halt and followed the man's gaze.

"Egyptian cotton towels! I need some new ones for the bathroom," Reid said enthusiastically turning to Arthur, his eyes burning brightly with the zeal for bargain hunting.

"Spencer!" began Arthur, but he knew he'd lost the argument.

"It's a closing down sale…I know the colours I want. Just wait here, I won't be long."

Arthur watched the tall thin frame disappear into the crowds and then saw a nearby bench. He moved the trolley carefully and sat down next to a grey haired matron, looking after a sleeping toddler in a buggy.

"Your sons got the right idea…He getting married soon?" the woman asked, with a friendly smile.

"No," replied Arthur, and then wondered if he should try and explain that Spencer was not his son remembering the effect upon the shop assistant. He decided to take the conversation away from his patient, but again Arthur lost the upper hand.

"Well he's got the right idea. My Gina got some fantastic bargains in there; some lovely towels and ready made drapes for her living room," she began, "When her Mike saw them, he was very impressed and said if she could find some more drapes, of that quality, he'd finish the bedroom for Easter. Well, my Gina didn't need telling twice, he's been doing that bedroom for the past 2 months. I don't know how she stands it all half-finished…."

Arthur sat letting the woman recount her view of all things affecting the domestic lives of Gina and Mike. Arthur nodded in all the right places and occasionally smiled, all the time wondering where the hell Reid had got to and had he been side tracked into the drapes department. He began to get a little worried and wondered if he'd had an unexpected panic attack in a crowded place. The team had not expected this situation would trigger a flashback, but PTSD could be so unpredictable…

"Oh look, here comes your boy! Looks like he's been successful," she cheerfully stated.

"Yes," Arthur smiled in relief at the sight of a satisfied looking Reid holding 3 large packages, "Well, I'll be going now and thank you for the chat," said Arthur, quickly getting up and taking control of the trolley again. He met Reid half way to the position that he had been left in.

"Sorry Arthur, glad you decided to sit down…You should've seen the queues, but I've managed to get these bales and they're super quality and in the colours I wanted, and the price!" he said triumphantly, and then noticed Arthur's weary look, "Guess it's time to go back."

"Yes, now help me get these things back to the car," Arthur said, in his best fatherly no nonsense voice. Spencer took control of helping to steer from the front and they were soon packing the things for Reid's apartment into the large boot. They put the two carrier bags on the back seat and Spencer took the trolley back to a trolley point.

Arthur drove carefully out of the car park while the passenger reached for the play button of the CD player.

"If we're late back for lunch, you're going to explain to Hilary!" the driver said, but the passenger leaned back into the seat confident that they would be back in time. Besides, Spencer knew that he could always flash Hilary one of his smiles, and tell her about the bargains he'd found for his apartment and all would be forgiven. Reid closed his eyes, and let the beautiful Bach violin sonatas wash over him and relaxed after the tiring crowds of the mall.

Max looked up as Don and Arthur came through his open office door. Both men seemed to be in a good humour and chuckling away at some story. Don closed the door before taking a seat alongside Arthur.

"How's Spencer?" asked Max, but he suspected all had gone well because neither man seemed concerned in any way by their present demeanour.

"Right, I'm never going shopping with Reid again!" Arthur firmly stated.

"Arthur! Spencer really enjoyed himself this morning," interjected Don with a grin.

Max sat back in his chair sensing that he had missed an eventful experience. He chose to just press the play button and asked, "Why?"

"He's as bad as my wife…Can't resist a bargain…a sale sign! Oh, we got his new shirts and sweaters quite quickly…I must admit he was very decisive, but then he saw a sale of household electrical goods and it was 'Grab a trolley, Arthur!'…Susan does that to me, not my patients!" recounted Arthur with passion.

Max's face creased into a smile, so Spencer had taken control of the shopping trip. It was a re-assuring sign that he had coped with crowds again, despite the very quiet and controlled surroundings of the Clinic that had been his home for over 2 months.

Don too was smiling and answered Max's unasked question in the look the Head Psych gave him.

"Spencer enjoyed being back in the real world again and was so caught up in the shopping for things for his home, that he didn't notice any apprehension or panic at being in a crowded mall," Don explained. "He really has thought out how he's going to personalise his apartment over the next few weeks and is quite excited about it. I don't think he felt he wanted to do anything before in case he got interrupted with a call to work."

Max nodded with understanding. All three of them had spent hours talking to the young agent and felt that this time they had touched upon all the problems that he had tried to hide or suppress in his past. Each of them had stressed the need for Spencer to have a circle of friends outside the narrow world of his work, and to try to get a better work/life balance.

"I think we forget that Spencer was the carer for his Mom from the age of 10 and because of having to interact with the adult world of shopping, at such a young age, he has quite a developed sense for quality and a bargain. He told me that his Mom had been obsessed with the idea that they didn't have enough money and they'd spend hours cutting out coupons. Spencer said that he still cut them out if it was something he liked. However, he also said at the other extreme, his Mom would think nothing of sending him off to buy an expensive book she wanted…He's very careful with his money but will spend on things he really wants," said Don.

"You should see his music collection…almost as bad as the books," added Arthur.

"Perhaps when he's finished decorating, I'll get an invite to see it," said Don, who hoped that if Spencer didn't ask him that perhaps Arthur would give him a big hint.

"Well, are we all in agreement that he's ready to go home on Friday?" asked Max, carefully eyeing his two experts.

"Yes," replied Arthur without a hint of doubt.

"Most definitely, we need to get him back in the real world so he can find his place again, but I'll want to keep in contact with him on a regular basis," answered Don.

"Definitely," agreed Max, "Spencer mustn't be allowed to slip through the net again. We three must maintain regular contact because he doesn't have a solid group of friends locally. My project for him is to re-write his last doctorate for publication, which will be kudos for the BAU and the Bureau. It'll also get his name more widely known and will act as a safety net should he choose to leave the BAU. I've already spoken to Mike Lucas, the editor who deals with my books, and he was interested…He rang me back yesterday saying that he'd read a couple of papers Reid had published, while studying for that last doctorate, and was impressed with his lucid style."

"Spencer does write beautifully…I think he must get that from his Mom and all that literature he's always been steeped in," said Don.

"Probably, but Lucas was very interested and has given me the instructions for Spencer to email the first chapter. I'm sure that once the apartment is finished, then the book will take up a good part of his time," replied Max, who was determined that Spencer should be kept busy and noticed by the right people outside the FBI.

"I think Spencer has already re-written a good part of it in his mind," Arthur said quietly, and smiled at the slightly astonished looks on his colleagues' faces.

"Gentlemen," said Arthur with a flourish, "We're dealing with a genius here. He knows every word he wrote so I suspect he has been thinking about it in quiet moments, especially when he's woken up early in the morning."

Both Max and Don looked thoughtful for a few moments and then nodded their acceptance of Arthur's speculation.

"Have you taken all the purchases to his apartment?" Max suddenly asked, turning to Arthur.

"Yeah, they filled my car boot…I put it all in his vestibule, he can sort it out when he gets home. It took me 10 trips to get everything up to his apartment from the car, good job there was a lift…."

"Think of the exercise, Arthur, after that good lunch you ate, it probably worked some of it off," replied Don, with a grin.

"It was your idea for him to do something with his home so you can hardly complain," joined in Max, gently teasing their comfortably round colleague.

Arthur pretended to huff a little but he was actually delighted with the strides that Reid had made. This psych knew that now Spencer had bought the paint, he'd not waste his money by not using it.

Max smiled warmly, "Are you going to take him home on Friday?"

"Yeah, I'll make sure our numbers are on his 'speed dial list'," Arthur assured; he felt good to be part of the team that would be supporting the talented agent, on the next stage of his recovery.

"Good, but now I want to concentrate on wider matters. I've prepared a briefing paper about the inconsistencies of the training and lack of overview for the BAU, that Reid's experiences have highlighted. We must try to avoid it happening to any other agent in the future. I want both of you to read it and add any of your own ideas. We may only get this one chance to get some change and we have to strike while the iron is hot and management is still reeling from the events in Georgia. I would like to have a meeting next Friday afternoon at 2:30 about this, so we can begin to prepare a proposal to put before the Director and the 'Training Board'," stated Max seriously.

"Do you think we really have a chance of pushing through some changes?" Don asked.

"I've already informally spoken to the Director about Reid's past training. He also realises that certain departments have difficult work hours and because of them, the turn over of agents is too high. You train some one then they leave because the hours are ruining their family life, or they need to have a life outside the Bureau. We all know how committed people get here, but sometimes the price is too high and that itself causes unnecessary distress." Max quietly answered, but both men recognised the determination in the stance of their boss before them.

End of Chapter 12


	13. Chapter 13

The In- Between Times: Chapter 13 

**By Helena Fallon.**

Spencer Reid stood by the charcoal grey counter top and looked out of the kitchen window. It was a good feeling to be back home but also he knew he had changed so much since the last time he had been in this apartment. Arthur had dropped him off about 10 minutes ago, and once assured that Spencer felt fine, he left for a meeting, promising to ring after lunch.

Reid had never really appreciated the simple act of putting your key into your own door and opening it to the familiar…well there was the pile of paint tins, boxes and large packages. Spencer had grinned to himself at the memory of the shopping trip. It just felt so good to be home, especially when there had been times in Georgia when he thought he would never see his place again.

Spencer's first act had been to take his suitcase into the bedroom. He unpacked his new buys and some of the clothes that Arthur had collected from this apartment. However, he left the shirts that had been his fathers in the case and went to the closet to add a few more shirts that had belonged to William Reid. He closed the lid and placed the case at the back of the first spacious closet, he would wear his Dad's watch but he didn't need to wear his shirts anymore. Spencer had been attracted to this apartment originally because of the storage space of this room. The wall opposite the two windows was the home of light oak plain doors, with narrow floor to ceiling mirrors between them. The oak doors opened up into spacious walk-in closets. The middle closet was devoted to hanging space, to the right of this closet another contained drawers and shelving. The final closet, where he had placed the case, there were further shelves and space to store suitcases, boxes, an ironing board and a vacuum cleaner.

Reid then took the carrier bag he'd been given by Hilary into the kitchen. Hilary always insisted in giving her single patients a food survival carrier for the first day home. He carefully unpacked the items and put the home-made food away. There was a foil tray containing vegetable lasagne for his evening meal, a carton of milk, a portion of cheese, margarine, a carton of orange juice, a tub of Hilary's special tomato soup, 4 wholemeal rolls and a small wholemeal loaf. In another strong container he found a selection of Hilary's cookies and 4 chocolate muffins, each individually wrapped in cling film. Spencer knew that he'd miss Hilary.

It had been over two months since he was last standing here, making a quick coffee before heading off to Quantico. He wasn't well enough yet to return to work but he could saviour the freedom that he now felt. He decided to make some filtered coffee and set about getting the machine working. He poured milk into a clear glass jug, reached for his Siberian tiger mug and got the sugar bowl ready.

Spencer wandered off into the living room as the coffee machine spluttered to itself and glanced lovingly at his music collection. He reached for a favourite, Bach unaccompanied cello sonatas, and the apartment was once more alive with music. The young man switched on his computer and went back to the kitchen to get his coffee, and a chocolate muffin, before he checked his e-mail. He had been assured that his sites would still be active and addresses would not be closed down…Nigel in Computer Security had dealt with that concern. Spencer spent the next two hours catching up with his electronic messages. He merely told people that he'd been hurt on the job, but was now back at home with still some sick leave and plans to do some long overdue decorating. It was not a lie but he had no intention of going into details.

Another mug of coffee was drunk while he went through the neat pile of mail that Arthur had regularly collected from his box and placed on the small vestibule table. Spencer's protesting stomach told him that it was lunchtime and he sat and ate the tomato soup with a roll while watching the CNN bulletin, with his meal on a tray.

Spencer leaned back on his couch and thought about what he would do that afternoon. He really wanted to get started on his apartment and he looked at it now with fresh eyes. Arthur was right, there was nothing, other than the music and books that reflected his real personality. It was only 7 years old and he'd been there 5 of those years. The previous owner had been an overseas airline pilot and had hardly ever used the place. Spencer had done nothing, there were the original white walls and the blinds and drapes left by the previous occupant. It had been a bargain at the time because he had the money from his father's life assurance and could pay cash.

Spencer had bought a new bed but his previous student existence, and careful budgeting with his Mom, meant that didn't want to spend a great deal on furnishings. He had been content to make do with second hand things…it all looked tired and didn't do justice to the living space he'd bought. However, things were going to change now and he thought about which room he'd tackle first. Spencer decided to take photographs of every room so he would have a record of before and after, it was something that he had found most useful in the magazines Arthur had given him. Reid got his digital camera and wandered from room to room recording his present living space.

Spencer decided that he would sort out the bathroom first. It was fully tiled; the white bathroom suite, which was spacious enough to include both a bath and separate shower, had a charcoal grey tiled floor that contrasted with the white tiling on the walls. The white effect was softened by a band of small mosaic tiles, half way up the walls, in Richmond green and royal blue with the occasional tiny square of crimson. When he first moved in, he had bought some towels in a local sale; one set was a slate grey and the other was in black. Reid now thought how cold they made this bathroom look and resolved to unpack the bales he had bought.

Reid retrieved the 3 large packages from the vestibule and began to open them up. He then placed the new towels on the built in shelving and heated towel rails. Stepping back, to stand by the door, he admired the effect…It was such a simple thing, but those magazines Arthur had given him were correct in saying that the right coloured accessories could enhance a room. The new towel colours of crimson, Richmond green and an Oxford blue added a richness of warmth and picked up the colours of the mosaic band in the expanse of white. All he needed now, thought Reid, was some leafy plant to give some life to the clinical white, but he'd look for a suitable plant tomorrow.

He took the discarded packaging back to his kitchen and placed it in the shiny stainless steel bin near the kitchen door. He turned his attention to this room and let his critical eye evaluate its state. The kitchen was spotlessly clean and clinical with white tiling to three walls, smooth shiny white storage cupboard doors which contrasted well with the charcoal grey counter tops and floor tiles. Along one wall was a steel hob, and a white oven, blending in with the cupboards, and a large stainless steel fridge/freezer completed that side. The opposite wall contained more cupboards and a glass fronted display cupboard where Spencer kept a few glasses in odd shapes and sizes. The wall with the window held more cupboards and the stainless steel sink with the washing machine, which was also white. Against the wall, opposite the window, stood an old pine metre square table and two odd chairs; one painted white, the other was a worn looking pine with very little varnish left on its surface.

Spencer leaned back against the counter top and thought how soul-less this room was but there was only himself and he'd not bothered to even put any pictures on the walls. Well there were going to be changes, this room had only one untiled wall and that was painted white and uninviting, like all the other walls in the apartment. He would paint this wall tomorrow; it wouldn't take long with the 'one coat' emulsion he had bought because the wall was smooth and unblemished. In the meantime, he'd unpack the new dinner set.

Reid went and brought the large box into the kitchen from the vestibule. He found the Stanley knife that he kept in his 'household' drawer that also contained: an assortment of small batteries, several small neatly wound balls of different weights of string, a reel of sellotape, a reel of heavy duty household tape, a wallet of screwdrivers and two different sizes of scissors. Reid carefully slit open the taped top and began to place the contents of the box on the counter top. There were 4 place settings: cups with their saucers, small tea plates, soup/cereal bowls and large round dinner plates. These were all in a soft dull glaze in a deep forest green. Spencer reached out with a slender index finger to trace the soft, smooth almost sensuous rim of a cup. These had been a bargain at half their normal price and they were imported; he liked Denby ware and had first seen it at the Bishops. Mrs. Bishop was very proud of her blue Denby mugs and they did feel weighty and warm even when empty to Spencer's imagination.

Spencer opened a lower cupboard, but then changed his mind and opened an upper one instead above the shiny steel toaster. He took out the crockery he normally used and filled the space with the new pieces. Spencer eyed the collection before him; he'd bought a cheap dinner set with 4 setting when he had been at Harvard. He smiled; he had found this set at a sale aswell. It was not complete any more and had contained mugs not cups and saucers and the white pieces, with a tiny green square with a black circle inside on the rims, were not unattractive. However, they had lasted 9 years and now it was time for a change to show the different taste of an older man. He placed the 3 remaining dinner plates, 2 mugs, 3 cereal bowls and two smaller tea plates into the cardboard box, and thought that perhaps he'd collect a few more things to take to Goodwill over the coming days.

He looked at his mug; it had been a present and didn't want to part with it, or the other ones he had. Spencer opened another upper cupboard and took out his odd collection of mugs; all had been presents and held good memories. The Siberian tiger and the Star Trek mug, with the picture of the original 'Enterprise', had been presents from Peter Bishop, who was still pleasantly amused that he treasured them. There was a cartoon image of Einstein on a white background that had been a present from Holly, his first real girlfriend. She'd not been able to cope with the fact that his mother was mentally ill and his Mom had not coped with the fact that her son had a woman. It had taught him not to mention 'girlfriends' ever again; but he had warm memories of that youthful time at Harvard.

The Lute Society mug, with the beautiful photographic images of lutes was a gift from Professor Davide, the president of the Dowland Society, in appreciation for his musical contributions to their meetings. George Davide had told him that he had chosen that mug because one of the lutes was so very like the one Spencer played. The Milky Way mug was from Carl, who was a friend from the Harvard Astro-Physics Society…now he was quite an eccentric and presently working in Antarctica. Spencer smiled to himself at the flood of memories each of these mugs unleashed; he couldn't part with any of them. Spencer decided to change their location and took the glasses out of the glass door display cupboard and put the treasured mugs in there. He placed the glasses in the cupboard, which had once housed the mugs, and resolved to buy a new set of everyday mugs to go with the kitchen.

The demanding ringing tone brought him back from the kitchen to the living room and a quick search for his cell phone. It had been so long since he had heard that ring tone that his brain was slow in identifying the noise.

"Hello," Spencer said, although he noted that it was Arthur's number displayed.

"Tell me you're busy," Arthur's cheerful voice boomed through the tiny speaker.

"Yeah, I was in the kitchen…I've unpacked my new dinner set and placed some old crockery in the box for Goodwill."

"Excellent! What else have you been doing?" Arthur asked, knowing that patients were often disorientated once the initial euphoria of being home wore off.

"Arthur, you would be proud of me. I've unpacked my new clothes and put away my Dad's old shirts in the case and put it in the closet. I've unpacked my towels and put them in the bathroom…I think they give the place a lot of colour but I need to look for a plant to give the sterile whiteness something living and colourful," Reid enthused.

"Good…Have you eaten?" asked Arthur carefully, the Clinic staff had been particularly aware of keeping this man's weight up and he was still underweight.

"Yeah, I had Hilary's soup for lunch and I've a vegetable lasagne for tonight."

"You sound as if you're busy, what are your plans for the rest of the day?"

"I'm going to put the tins of paint in the appropriate rooms and start writing the first chapter to that book Max wants me to produce, and just before I go to bed, I want to re-tune my lute…its been a long time since I played my instrument…"

"I'll call you tomorrow in the early afternoon. Don't forget that Don wants you to keep a social diary of all the people you meet every day…and Spencer, remember you can call any of us, any time…that's what the numbers are for," Arthur stated quietly, but Spencer understood the message that was sincerely meant. Three men had been central to his recovery programme and, as a psychologist, he knew he'd had the very best of support.

"I'll call if I feel the need, I promise Arthur…I know you all broke the rules for me and I'm well on the road to returning to Quantico, but I'm not ready yet," Reid stated seriously.

"Take your time, Spencer, you've trusted us so far and you've gone through the most difficult bit, now is the time to consolidate what we've done together, and the tasks will help you slip back into the routines of the real world again."

"Yeah, thanks."

"Bye," Arthur said, before ending the call.

He glanced at the clock, it was 15:20 already and he wondered just where the time had disappeared. He put the phone down on the coffee table and Reid thought how old and tired it looked; the varnish now worn away in parts and there were faint stains, on the decorative tiles, that wouldn't come clean. The man's eyes fell upon the old tan leather couch, with its worn surfaces and sagging leather seat cushions, and easy chair with a maroon pile cloth finish; both looked lived in. Perhaps there was still a little life left in them but Reid needed to find something that reflected his tastes now. When Spencer had first bought this place he'd furnished it quickly and without much thought, thinking that he'd get round to furniture hunting when he had the time. Unfortunately the time never really materialised or was the truth that there was only himself to see it, so it didn't matter. It was all Arthur's fault giving him those magazines to read; now he just felt so dissatisfied with the furniture in his apartment. He stared at the neat piles of books stacked on the oak floor that had no room on the bulging shelving; he needed to buy some bookcases. Reid decided that he needed to re-arrange this large room because at the moment it looked liked a student's room, with its computer on a desk, books, old furniture and old television; not the room of a professional man in his mid- twenties.

Reid moved decisively and went back to the vestibule; he picked up 2 tins of paint, destined to transform the kitchen tomorrow, and placed them beside the kitchen table. He took the rest of the paint to its assigned rooms and mentally made a note of the things he could look for on the internet. It would narrow down the time shopping if he could decide upon a style of couch or blind or bookcase and find the nearest stockist.

Spencer went back to the kitchen, made himself some more coffee and decided that perhaps he'd do some internet searching for the rest of the afternoon….

At 18:15 his hunger pangs lead him to break off his searches to put the vegetable lasagne in the oven, to heat through, while he continued his trawl through the ideas for roller blinds. Reid was particularly pleased when he found one stockist in a mall less than 10 miles away. There were also several other stores that held the promise of further bargains as he had decided that he needed new tea towels, a teapot and some teas…he was drinking far too much coffee and he'd only been home a few hours.

Spencer had typed effortlessly for three hours following his dinner and the chapters, he had re-written in his head, now materialised on the screen. He had written the introduction, chapter1 and had begun the second chapter when he felt his eyes begin to tire. The man stopped and stretched, closed down the machine and went to the bedroom closet to retrieve his beloved lute and to bring it out, of its protective case, to the soft light of the living room. He lovingly stroked the beautiful wood of the instrument and felt the familiar weight as he positioned it to begin the essential tuning. This friend had been neglected too long and the tuning took time, but the process was patiently executed by the lutenist, before celebrating his true return with a selection of his favourite Dowland pieces.

The bedroom clock indicated that it was 10 minutes to midnight as Spencer slipped between the sheets of his own bed. It felt strange to be back in this room once more and he yawned, as he felt tired just as he had planned to be, hoping he would sleep deeply. He reached out and switched off the bedside lamp.

Spencer's eyes adjusted to the dark, the blackness along with the silence pressed in on him…He felt his breathing quicken, his hearing became alert to every sound of his body and rustle of the bedclothes as he fidgeted. Spencer began to practice his timed breathing exercises, but they were not calming him this time. He knew what he had to do…it did not happen very often these days, but obviously the trauma he'd survived meant that this old fear had to be placated once more. He reached out into the black world and felt the lamp and touched the switch…the room was conquered by the light, but Spencer knew that the light was too close to his bed to let him sleep. The man got out of bed and switched on the main light and unplugged the bedside lamp and carefully carried it to a far corner. Once more connected, he turned off the main light and returned to his bed. At the Clinic he slept without a light, but the soft glow of the corridor lighting had seeped through the opaque glass in the door and gave any fitful sleeper the security of knowing that the darkness was tamed.

The tired man turned his back to the soft guardian against the dark, and fell asleep…

He felt cold, his head hurt and he was unable to move from the chair. He felt smelly and uncomfortable because he had been made to sit in his own urine…Hankel wouldn't free him from the chair when he needed to pee. Reid knew it was another tactic to try and demoralise him, but he wasn't going to give in. He'd helped rescue other kidnapped victims who had been kept constrained for days and they'd not given in. The joy of being found alive overcame being self conscious about the unclean conditions and the rescue teams were equally triumphant about any success.

The image of untying Christina Hurst flooded his memory; the tear stained grubby face pleading to be touched by a kind human being. Spencer had hugged her awkwardly for the first second then, he felt her fragile beaten body trembling, and he hugged her closer whispering words of re-assurance. He had amazed himself at this spontaneity that sprang from a deeply hidden well. Then a medic had appeared with a blanket to wrap her warmly, but Jack had nodded his approval at Spencer's actions and said on the way back to the car, that his act of compassion would set her on the road to recovery. Detective Donna Myers had travelled with Christina to the hospital. Later, Mr. and Mrs. Hurst had personally come to the precinct to shake their hands for finding their daughter and treating her so well when they had rescued her…

Spencer was kneeling besides Hankel's body. A man knelt next to him and somehow they rose together, but Spencer was still thinking of the murderer he'd just killed.

"You all right?" the words wrapped warmly around him, breaking through the memories of the last few minutes of desperation.

Spencer looked into the compassionate and worried face of Aaron Hotchner…he needed to know he was real, not a drug induced illusion…Spencer reached out to hug him and Hotch didn't hesitate to return the simple human touch…

"I knew you'd understand…" he had managed, knowing he was safe now.

Hotch released him and stepped aside.

He saw J.J.'s worried face, fearful and holding back the welling tears in her eyes.

He reached her into a hug, she mustn't cry, all would be all right.

"I'm sorry," she managed, fighting hard to keep control.

"It's all right…it wasn't your fault," he'd re-assured.

"Confess your sins!" demanded Hankel, over and over …

"I'm afraid to be myself!" Reid screamed inside his head…the words were hammering to be free from his skull…he twisted, clutched at his head shaking it, wanting to disperse the words…His voice kept repeating them, chanting, the rhythm picking up pace …Reid wanted the chanting to stop, to be at peace, to just be in a quiet place….He jumped for the darkness before him and he felt his body plummet into the abyss of nothingness….

Reid's eyes sprang open. There was a dim light coming from another part of the room, but it was enough to soothe the bursting heart and the breathing calmed to something more like normality, although his body was hot and sticky with perspiration. The man's brain reminded him that he was back in his own apartment and he was all right; it was just a nightmare. He was on the road to recovery and such dreams would invade his sleep…it was part of the healing process…Reid could rationalise things like he had during his counselling sessions…

Reid reminded himself that he was a very capable psychologist and he knew such dreams were just part of the post trauma and he'd experienced far worse while in the Clinic…Yeah, at the Clinic, he'd had some real terrors…waking up screaming. The night staff had sat with him and wanted him to talk, but he'd only really talked to Arthur, Don and Max…his trio of understanding.

Reid turned to the clock; blue numerals silently changed to 05:12. He had managed 5 hours sleep, quite good for his first night in his own bed in months. Spencer untangled himself from his sheets and lay on his back thinking about the day ahead. He would have breakfast and paint the kitchen wall first and then go shopping for food and after an early lunch, set off to the nearest shopping mall to get the table and chairs and look at roller blinds. Spencer felt awake and he didn't like just lying in bed. If he kept busy, then he'd be so tired, he'd have to get some sleep in before vivid dreams woke him. Besides, he wanted to get the decorating done as soon as possible now, and once that was done, he could concentrate on new furniture and accessories.

It was no good, he was awake now, he would have a shower and check his e-mails and perhaps remove the mahogany chest of drawers; it didn't really look right with the oak of the closet doors and the oak headboard of his bed. He didn't really need it because there was plenty of room in the closets, but it had been given to him by Mrs. Logan and he did like the touch and colour. Spencer knew he wanted to keep it, Mrs. Logan had told him that her husband had made it, as part of his apprenticeship as a carpenter, in the 1930s. Mrs. Logan had been going to move into a retirement home in Florida and there was no place for this piece of furniture and she wanted it to go to a good home…

Spencer turned on the shower and enjoyed the feeling of the warm water washing away the distress of the dreams. He dressed in an old black T-shirt and blue denim jeans; they were very worn and it wouldn't matter if they got paint on them. He looked at his reflection in one of the closet mirrors…he wouldn't bother shaving today.

He passed through the vestibule on the way to the kitchen and decided that he would move the small rosewood table, where he usually placed his keys as he came in, and replace it with the mahogany chest of drawers. He set the coffee machine working and padded into the living room and switched on the computer.

An hour later, he decided to move the chest of drawers and was pleased with the transformation of the vestibule by this fine piece of furniture that seemed to stand out against the white walls. He decided to put the table in the living room and put his Go board on it, as it was big enough to easily accommodate this and the two beautiful teak bowls that held the glass pebble-like pieces; one pebble set in white, the other set in black.

The man stood at the sink rinsing the paint tray feeling very satisfied with his endeavours. The paintbrush he had used to paint the edges was already clean; it amazed him that the edges of the wall had really taken the time. Once he had started to use the roller on the expanse of the wall, it was quickly finished. However, the roller had been a devil to clean because it took longer than expected to get all the paint off the roller head. He turned and looked at his first bit of decorating; it was the right colour, now he had to wait for it to dry. Spencer turned the coffee machine off and went to the bedroom to change out of his painting clothes. He put on a newer pair of jeans, blue T-shirt and a dove grey hoodie to keep him warm while shopping for some food.

Spencer Reid usually had food shopping down to a fine art; starting with the bakers, a block away, and then the supermarket a few minutes further walk. He would then bring home his shopping and, if he had time, would go out again to go down to the Farmer's Market where further treats might be found. Reid had left at just after 10 o'clock and normally visits to the bakers and supermarket would have him home in 40 minutes, but today he found so many of the shop assistants greeted him warmly and were eager to tell him that they had missed his custom. Spencer had merely told them that he'd not been well, but he was now on the mend, and he'd be around more often for a few weeks while he was still on sick leave. Spencer thought how very kind these people had been in wishing him well and felt quite humbled by their genuine concern for him and warm smiles that he had received on entering familiar shops. He decided to take his car down to the Farmer's Market because time was passing and he really wanted to be at the Riverside Mall before 2 p.m.

He found a parking space in the nearest car park and thought that he really must thank Arthur, when he rang, for taking his old car for short drives to keep the battery charged. Entering the market he received the same sort of warm greetings, he'd received earlier, from stall-holders who had missed him. Reid felt a little overwhelmed that people had remembered him after over 2 months, and again time passed far more quickly than usual with all the conversations he had. However, he managed to buy fresh vegetables and a rich home-made fruit cake, some chocolate cookies and jar of home-made plum jam. Reid also found a stall selling plants and he bought two Kalanchoe that looked attractive with their succulent leaves and tiny bright red flowers. He struggled back to his car, trying not to damage the flowers of the plants that Daphne assured him would cope with benign neglect as they originally came from the Mediterranean. It was nearly 2 o'clock by the time he got back to the apartment, and he quickly poured a glass of milk to drink with a cheese filled roll he was eating for lunch.

Arthur rang as promised and Spencer told him about his painting exploits, shopping and his quest for the afternoon at the Riverside Mall. Arthur wished him luck with his shopping and said he'd ring at a similar time the next day.

The Mall was very busy being a Saturday afternoon but Spencer found the furniture retailer and a very helpful assistant, who quickly found the correct boxes for the table and two chairs. Then two young assistants helped take them to Reid's car and placed them on the back seat after deciding that they would be too tight a fit for the boot. Afterwards, Reid wondered back into the Mall and found a speciality tea and coffee shop, where he bought a variety of teas in an attempt to keep his coffee consumption under control. While there he also noticed the various designs of crockery and a special offer: 'Choose a mug tree and 6 mugs for $30'. Spencer thought the mugs were a good quality and he noticed an ebony mug tree…

"Can I help you, sir?" a young pregnant Latino woman smiled up at him.

"Mmm…Yes, I…I," he began, his mind racing ahead of his speech which happened when he was excited or trying to impart information quickly. He began again, firmly telling himself that he was not in a hurry so he could take it easy, "I'd like that ebony mug tree and a selection of the primary colour mugs; that berry red one, the electric blue, the sunshine yellow, the deep green…" Spencer paused while he considered the colours for the remaining two mugs… "I'll have a tangerine orange and the indigo," he finally decided.

The petite assistant carefully packed the mugs into a box and found an ebony mug tree in a box already and put them in a large carrier. Spencer then noticed the teapot; it was colourful and would brighten up his kitchen counter top. He turned to the assistant once more and gave her one of his devastating smiles, which lead the woman to spontaneously smile back, her face alert and ready to act on his wishes.

"I like that teapot," he said simply, pointing with his slender right index finger.

"Oh that's the only one left, sir…I'm sure the manager will let you have a discount if you're really interested, I'll go and ask him."

"Please," replied Spencer, sensing another bargain in the making.

The assistant came back beaming with a box, "The teapot comes with a matching sugar bowl and milk jug, I'll show you," and she opened up the box and brought out the attractive bowl and jug. "You can have them half price, so for $ 20," she announced, knowing that she was about to clinch a very good deal.

"I'll take them," Spencer said decisively, and wondered how he was going to get things safely to his car.

"Perhaps, sir would like some help to get them to your vehicle?" the perceptive assistant asked.

"Yeah, I don't want to break anything before I get home,"

"Oh, certainly not, sir, your partner wouldn't like that at all!" she replied, turning away from her customer to signal to a youth to come and earn his pay for the day.

Spencer decided against trying to tell her the truth.

Spencer packed the boxes in the boot and decided that so far his shopping had gone well, perhaps he'd try a third time back into the Mall to look for the roller blinds he'd seen on the internet. He braved the crowds once more and found the shop on the second floor. There was a bewildering array of fabrics: colours and patterns fought to be noticed, even if they were arranged from light to dark across a particular colour range.

"Do you need any help?" a middle-aged, maternally rounded blond asked, her spectacles dangling from a red cord around her neck.

"Yes, please," Spencer smiled, "I was looking on the internet and found these two roller blind fabrics that I liked…" and Reid produced the two sheets he'd printed off that contained the picture aswell as design number.

"Oh, yes, sir, that's no problem, we do have both in stock…Have you measured your window?"

Less than 10 minutes later, Spencer found himself happily heading back to his car.

The journey home took a little longer than expected with the traffic but once home he unpacked his purchases. He decided to christen the teapot and made some Earl Grey tea, its strong distinctive taste appealed to his taste buds and its smoky aroma was unusual. Martin had introduced him to Earl Grey when he'd been at Princeton. Spencer smiled at the memory of drinking the tea and eating well-toasted teacakes while playing a game of Go. Martin was working in Canada now but he still sent e-mails and they played on-line. Spencer's silence over a few months had worried him, so Martin had been delighted to receive a message when Spencer got home again.

He stared at the two plants he'd bought in the Farmer's Market; he left one on the counter near the window and took the other to the bathroom. The effect of bright red flowers and dark green succulent leaves against the white tiles looked striking in both rooms. Spencer decided to take down the original dark blue blind and put up the new one. The task done, he stood back to look at the overall effect upon his now transformed bathroom. The plant brought living colour and the vivid primary coloured new blind, in narrow stripes of red, blue and green, picked up the colours of the band of mosaic tiles. Spencer was delighted with his efforts and went to find his camera again to record the finished project.

Reid prepared some macaroni cheese and put some broccoli in a saucepan to cook while the macaroni browned off in the oven. He began to put together the table and two chairs, starting with just removing the packing around the chairs which had black leather seats and high backs and shiny steel legs. The round glass topped table had four legs similar to the chairs, but it was the frosted glass design on the top that attracted him to this particular table. He placed it up against the newly painted sunshine yellow wall; the table's frosted sun burst design was perfect to Reid's eyes and gave this white modern kitchen a warmth that it was previously lacking. Reid liked yellows, he came from a desert state and the colours of the desert, ranging from the palest yellows through to the darkest browns, always reminded him of home and warm days even if the desert was brutally cold at night.

Spencer sat that evening and ate his meal off a green Denby plate and drank tea from a green cup and saucer. The bright teapot with red, blue, green and yellow spots on a white background sat happily on the counter top alongside its matching jug and sugar bowl. Afterwards he washed up and decided to replace the blind with the new one. It was a dramatic black and white zebra stripe pattern. The old one still looked in good condition so he decided that it, and the old bathroom one, could go to Goodwill. Reid looked at the kitchen from the sink; the yellow wall looked bright and warm but it needed some artwork of some kind to give the room a more personal touch. He filed the need away and thought about making a record on his computer about his exploits that day for Don.

Later that night, he finished chapter 2 of his book and completed the third chapter before taking up his lute to relax before going to bed. He felt tired with all the rushing around and yet he was pleased that in effect he had completed his bathroom and had only a few accessories, like new tea towels and some artwork, to get for his kitchen. Tomorrow he would tackle the bedroom, there were only three walls to paint and they were in good condition, like the kitchen wall had been, so he thought it would be a days task…just right for a Sunday.

It was midnight before he lay down, Spencer kept the lamp positioned in the corner so that it cast some light in the room but would not disturb his sleep. He had fallen to sleep quite easily but once more he had woken soon after 5 a.m. after vivid dreams, the most memorable part being the clicking of a gun to his head and his Mom's voice sneering, "You're weak…"

Once awake, he decided to shower and to have an early breakfast of toast, honey and coffee and make an early start on his bedroom. Reid planned to finish the three walls in one day, especially as one wall had two windows and he thought that wouldn't take too long. After breakfast, he returned to the bedroom armed with plastic sheeting that he had bought at the supermarket the previous day. Spencer pushed all the furniture into the centre of the room and took down the drapes and roller blinds, placing them on the bed, before covering everything with the plastic sheeting. He placed some old newspaper down along the walls to catch any paint splashes, although he had been pleasantly surprised at how little mess he had made in the kitchen.

Reid brought in the old kitchen table and covered it with newspaper, he placed the paint tray on it ready for when he used the roller, but first he had to paint the edges of the wall. He opened the tin of Mediterranean sea blue paint; this was going to be the colour of his feature wall, the wall where his bed usually stood. Reid stood on the old pine kitchen chair to reach the top of the wall and made his first strokes with the brush. It was such a magnificent warm, deep blue colour and suddenly the white, he had lived with for 5 years, was crying out to be given a new life. Two hours later, he broke off to make a coffee and wandered back in to admire his work. He decided to paint the opposite wall next and leave the window wall for last; he took his painting equipment to the kitchen to clean it. Spencer then spent nearly an hour and two rolls of kitchen paper towels later, together with the help of his old hairdryer, to get the roller and brush dry enough to start on the contrasting colour.

The pale blue dawn paint spread quickly, transforming what Spencer now thought of as an arctic wasteland. After finishing the opposite wall, he broke off for lunch, a tin of tomato soup and a cheese roll while he watched the CNN news at 1 p.m. He looked at the spacious living room and the three windows in the long wall that he intended to be his feature wall. He was going to change this room the most, and it would take time to get all his books off the shelving and his CDs and DVDs. Reid decided, that while the bedroom dried, he'd take the books and things off the shelving and get as much ready as possible for an early start on Monday. Reid was being single minded about getting the actual decorating finished so he could then concentrate on the shopping for new furniture and …his cell rang!

"Hello Arthur," Reid said, sounding upbeat.

"How's the decorating progressing?"

"Really well, I've started on the bedroom and only got the window wall to do there now, but the turquoise blue drapes don't go with the colour on the wall so I'll have to buy some more and the roller blinds have a tiny turquoise motif aswell…"

Arthur chuckled, "Oh, I've heard this all before…Once Susan starts a room, then she finds that so little co-ordinates with the chosen colour scheme, that she uses it as an excuse to change as much as possible…"

"You could've warned me!" complained Reid, but there was laughter in the voice.

"But that would have spoilt the fun you're having at actually finally making your living space a home…Have you finished your kitchen?"

"I think I've got the bathroom how I want it. The kitchen now has a new blind and table and chairs, but it needs some pictures up…But I'm pleased with the colour."

"Good, I'm looking forward to seeing it all once it's finished because anything would be better than that white…Its one thing to have neutral colours but too much white when there is nothing to bring it alive can be soul-less."

"I'm leaving the vestibule white, but it's going to be different," Spencer assured, "It's the best colour there because there's no natural light."

"Spencer, I'm sure that now you've started you'll not stop until you feel you have created the place you want. I want to see you for lunch on Thursday so I've booked a table at 'The Orchard Basket' for 12:30…it's on me."

"It's nice there," Spencer was impressed, it was a very pleasant vegetarian restaurant in the old part of Alexandria.

"Good, I noticed how you like vegetarian food and my colleagues recommended it. Now, I've got to go but I'll ring around this time tomorrow, you can always call me if you want to chat."

"Thanks Arthur, but I'm keeping busy at the moment and the time goes very quickly," replied Spencer honestly, but he didn't want to talk about his disturbed dreams because they were just a normal part of his life and had been even more so since Georgia. The call ended and Spencer went back to the final wall.

Reid had not anticipated the care needed to paint around windows and that the final wall, also in the pale blue, would take the longest! He was however pleased that emulsion paint did dry quickly and the feature wall was already dry so he knew that once he had cleaned the equipment he could put his bed back into place. But Arthur was right; now the bed cover and linen were all wrong, and he put them on his mental list for future shopping.

However, after cleaning the painting things, Spencer was hungry and he made himself a bolognese using Soya mince. He sat at his new table in the transformed kitchen to eat spaghetti and the Soya sauce and followed it with a large dish of chocolate ice cream, which he felt he deserved after all his hard work.

Reid went into the living room and logged on and began replying to messages. He added to his social diary that he'd spent the day indoors painting and therefore had not seen anyone, but he had spoken to Arthur and communicated with various friends via e-mail. It was by then 8 p.m. and Reid wondered just where the time had disappeared and he went to the bedroom to put the furniture back. Spencer put the roller blinds up but not the drapes, he carefully folded these and put them in a carrier bag and added them to the pile destined for Goodwill. The bed was put back and he admired the effect of the light oak headboard against the rich blue. The old comfortable chair was placed in the vestibule; another donation for the charity store.

Returning to the living room he spent a further 2 hours, removing books, DVDs, CDs and shelving off the walls. It was one thing to know just how many, and every title, but he had not realised just how tiring removing them all could be. Spencer felt that perhaps he would sleep longer tonight because he was even a bit achy from all the stretching and using muscles he rarely used. He decided on the luxury of a bath before bed and hoped the hot water would help soothe the niggling aches. Spencer put some lavender oil in the bath because he remembered that lavender was supposed to be relaxing. The lavender oil had been part of a present, from Mollie last year, that also included scented candles for the home. Spencer thought that perhaps he'd get around to using them one day.

He felt warm and drowsy as he drifted off to sleep…a sleep full of remembered episodes from his life…

"Spencer!" there was a hint of exasperation in Holly's voice, but the smile revealed her humour. She stood, trying look angry and totally failing, as Spencer climbed the wobbly ladder in the bookstore.

"Won't be a minute but it looks to be the 1947 edition of 'The Hundred Best English Essays'," the very thin boyfriend called down to her.

Holly pushed her blond hair out of her eyes and then swiftly brought her hand back down to help hold the slipping books she intended to buy. Holly was majoring in English literature and still couldn't believe that this terribly intelligent, and nice man, was a genius studying theoretical physics. Spencer seemed to know more about her subject than the lecturers who taught at Harvard. He was still something of a mystery and didn't talk much about family, only saying that he was from Las Vegas, and that his parents separated and his father had died when he was 12.

He descended the ladder triumphantly clutching the second hand tome, "You might like to dip into this," he said with his shy smile, that always melted her.

They made their way to the counter with its old fashioned cash till.

Spencer held Holly close, delighting in the closeness of another human being, her hair was so soft and straight, just falling on her shoulders and those blue eyes twinkled with mischief and kindness. It was all going so well but would this moment of closeness last…it was such a secret pleasure.

He sat on the bed and prayed that she would understand, "My Mom is a patient at the Bennington Sanatorium…she's a paranoid schizophrenic," he watched the horror flood into her once sparkling eyes and an invisible wall fall between them, protecting this golden blue-eyed sensitive creature from such contamination. Spencer knew their all too brief romance was over and he had quietly left her world, and tried not to touch it again during his two years at Harvard.

Penelope Garcia stood before him, having overheard his instructions concerning his Mom. He sensed she wanted to reach out and hug him, but he kept his professional distance while she kept her silence and their friendship tightened during the Garner case. She was kind to Diana Reid and treated her with respect, although Garcia looked to him for re-assurance; Garcia's sensitivity served her well.

When Spencer had first met J.J. he was reminded of Holly…it was purely a physical thing; the hair and eyes were so similar, but this agent's personality was not like Holly's. Perhaps it was this that Gideon had picked up, the way he looked at her and was reminded of his first serious girlfriend. It was odd for Gideon to give him tickets to the Redskins game for his 24th birthday and to then aim him towards J.J… Spencer didn't want to take her out because he knew that J.J. was not attracted to him and he had seen her several times with the same man, whom Reid assumed was her boyfriend. J.J. was a friend from work but that was all. He decided that he would give her the Redskins tickets, as she was sure to know someone who would really appreciate the game.

"But they were your present from Gideon," she looked puzzled by the gift being passed to her.

"It's our secret J.J., I don't like football. I've had various friends who tried to get me interested in the game while I was a student. No, you go and take that very tall and athletic man …I bet he likes the Redskins!" he replied, and watched a rare blush colour her cheeks.

"My private life is private, you won't say anything will you?" the blond asked, pleading for understanding with her beautiful eyes. Here was a woman who dealt with the media everyday, and because of it, valued her own privacy.

"I promise," he had assured with a shy smile, and their friendship had continued.

Reid remembered being in the field, he had followed Hankel there…He heard the shots and turned towards the barn, "J.J.!" and he was hit and he dropped to the hard ground, his head throbbing with the impact of the blow. Reid was being dragged, but he had no strength to fight the blackness that was dragging him down to escape the pain…

Spencer fought for air; he would not be dragged into hell again. Spencer Reid clawed against the rock of life, searching to find a hold to give him a way out of the eternal blackness awaiting him if he fell back…if Hankel came after him to drag him back….

Reid gasped, the room looked strange and he didn't know where he was at first. Then the smell of fresh paint awakened his sleepy brain to re-assure the man that this was the bedroom he had decorated…to give some colour to his life. It was to be the chance of a new beginning, starting with making this place a home and not just a place to sleep. Spencer had never shared this bed with any one; the brief relationships he had found since entering Quantico had always centred on the woman's world…he always let them take the lead. If they had wanted him to share their bed, then the offer had come from them, but he knew they would not last and they never did. Reid was not a Morgan, confidently picking up women for the brief companionship after a case…It was all soul-less; Reid longed for something more before this loneliness overwhelmed him because his work was not enough.

The lamp in the far corner of the room gently lit the soft blue of the nearest wall; it was a warm summer colour despite its paleness. Spencer squinted at the clock; 06:19, better than the previous day. He sat up and looked over his shoulder at the darker blue of his feature wall. It reminded him of the warm deep blue used in the illustrations of the mediaeval manuscripts that had once belonged to the world loved by Professor Diana Reid.

The man dressed in his painting clothes and went to the kitchen to prepare coffee and his usual breakfast. He looked with satisfaction at the zebra striped roller blind and congratulated himself, with unusual smugness, about his choice. As he ate his toast, Reid thought that he was beginning to get a feel for this decorating of one's personal space. He reminded himself that he still had to take down the drapes and the roller blinds in the last room, so he hurriedly finished his last piece of toast.

Spencer decided to paint the feature wall, with the windows, last this time. Spencer had painted the wall opposite the windows first; it usually held his books on, floor to ceiling, oak shelving and another wall held his music collection and DVDs. These walls were transformed from their neutral white to a pale peppermint that complimented the oak floorboards. By 10:30, he had finished the three pale walls and he cleaned the equipment and changed to go shopping.

Reid wondered down to the bakery and bought bagels and doughnuts and collected a newspaper on the way back. He read the paper over a coffee and a bagel before changing again to tackle the last wall. Reid worked in silence quite happily, not wishing to have anything to distract him. The rich teal colour of this long wall made him want to rush out and buy new drapes before he had even finished. The previous owner had left beige, these were totally inoffensive, but Reid knew this room deserved better. Goodwill would have some more drapes to sell on for a good cause.

A late lunch of bagels and cream cheese left Spencer deciding what to do for the rest of the day. The walls needed to dry before putting the shelving back and then there were the contents…he decided that was an evening job and that he needed to get out and do some more shopping. Reid packed the box of crockery, the old blinds from the kitchen and bathroom, the drapes from the bedroom and the living room and set off for his nearest Goodwill shop.

The helpers were eager to help unpack the car boot and were delighted with his donations. Spencer also told them about his future plans to buy a new couch and chair and asked about the possibility of them collecting the old ones.

"Oh yes, sir, that's no problem we've got a small truck. If you haven't got a garage to store things in, we'll send the truck round when you know the new furniture is being delivered," replied the portly, bald man, with such a florid complexion, that Spencer worried about the man's blood pressure.

"I've got to go and buy a replacement," said Spencer, but then his eyes caught sight of something standing on the floor half hidden by a small round table. He went over to have a closer look.

"This is so unusual," Spencer enthused, his whole face lit up at the find, "How much?"

"Oh…well $10!" the portly man suggested, and Spencer felt it was worth more, but he was not going to argue.

"I'll take it," Spencer replied, reaching into his trouser pocket for his wallet.

"Not much call for these nowadays…It belonged to an elderly gent, he was into bonsai aswell," the man said, looking pointedly towards a shelf further along.

Spencer was hooked; here was a miniature tree in a moss green, highly glazed pot.

Reid picked it up and took it to the counter; he knew he would find a place for it.

"Oh you like it then…his daughter said it was a Ficus, trained in an upright position and was idiot proof,"

"Sounds just right for me then," Spencer said with a smile, "So what are you selling it for?"

"I've no idea…make me an offer?"

"How about $30 for the terrarium and this?" suggested Spencer with a smile, feeling that his conscience was now happier, as he was sure the man had little idea about the cost of terrariums and the one he was buying was large…

"Done!" the portly man beamed back; he was having a really good day, he would have to volunteer for Mondays more often.

Spencer then struggled back to his car carrying a very heavy terrarium, which had been made from an enormous old glass storage jar, that stood 4feet 6 inches and, he estimated, measured 48 inches around its widest part. Reid placed it on the floor in front of the passenger seat. The portly volunteer had carried the bonsai tree out to him and Reid wedged it carefully in the boot. He went home and placed his finds in the vestibule before going back into the old part of Alexandria to wander around the Torpedo Factory Art Centre.

Reid loved this place; there were some very talented local artists and craftsmen who displayed their skills here. He was in no hurry and enjoyed the art and crafts on display but he kept wandering back to the same pictures: etchings of old Alexandria and some of the waterfront. They were very bold in their black and white statement of the area. Spencer chose two for the kitchen wall: one of the market square and the other, a scene from the harbour.

Moving to another area, Spencer bought a selection of framed old sepia photographs of Alexandria around 1900 to 1910. He thought that they would give some interest to the barren walls of the vestibule. He paid for his finds and while waiting for them to be wrapped, and assured that a couple of assistants would help to carry his things to his car, Spencer saw a painting that he couldn't resist. It was a little more expensive than the rest, but JEM was gaining a reputation and could command a higher asking price. This was an oil painting of St. Marks in Venice and called 'Morning Mist Over St. Marks and the Square. The mist was a bewitching mix of blues, purples and lilac with a hint of silver and pewter. Spencer was drawn into the scene. It was the kind of painting you could look at for years and never grow tired of the image, it seemed to magically change before the observers' eyes, drawing you into the swirling mist.

The purchases were placed carefully into his car and he set off once more for home, after remembering to buy the necessary wall hooks, so he could put his treasures onto their new hanging places.

When Spencer got home he made a mug of peppermint tea and cut himself a large slice of rich fruitcake. It had been a very tiring afternoon, but a very successful one.

He prepared a casserole with a chicken breast and chopped up a mixture of vegetables before pouring some vegetable stock over. He placed it in the oven, and pressed on with putting up his art, while it was cooking. The two etchings were hung on the yellow wall in the kitchen and Spencer thought this made a considerable difference to the living space. He went and got his camera and recorded the changes he had made in this room.

He took the sepia photographs into the vestibule and arranged them into a display of eight pictures on the empty wall between the kitchen and the bathroom. The vestibule was beginning to come alive and have a welcoming feel, but it was not complete yet.

Finally, Spencer took his JEM painting into the bedroom and positioned it carefully, so he would be able to see it from his bed. The pale blue wall complimented the colours and he sat for some minutes on his bed totally enchanted; the colours in the painting seemed to have a life of their own.

Reid went back to the vestibule and struggled with the heavy terrarium. He carefully placed it in the living room, standing it in the corner between the wall and the first window that you saw as you entered the room. The bottle was full of different foliage and the various greens blended in with the colours of the walls and the natural effect of the oak flooring. Spencer intended to put a dining table near this first window; he wanted one with a matching sideboard, to give this end of the room a well-defined function rather than just being another space to pile books. Spencer thought the bonsai could stand on the table or sideboard when he got them, but for now he would place it on the mahogany chest of drawers in the vestibule.

Spencer looked at the stuff piled on the floor that needed to go back on its shelving. He began the task of putting the oak shelving back and the time consuming task of re-shelving the books and music. Reid started on the books and had done about half of them, when the smell of the casserole reminded him about eating. He had just finished his meal when he heard his doorbell ring.

He looked through the spyhole and saw Arthur.

"Hello," said Spencer, as he opened the door, a little puzzled by this unexpected visit.

"You didn't answer your phone," Arthur said, "I called round earlier, but Mrs.Wallis told me that you had been in and out several times. She let me in tonight, said you had carried in quite a lot of things."

"Oh, Arthur, I'm sorry, I've been shopping and took somethings to Goodwill and found a bonsai plant and terrarium there. Then I went down to the Artists Centre…I didn't realise that I'd not picked up my phone. Would you like a drink of tea?"

"That would be nice, I didn't think I'd tell Max I'd lost contact with you before I'd done my own check…I thought you would be all single minded about this decorating…Can I have a peek?"

Spencer grinned, "Yeah, what sort of tea would you like, I've quite a selection alongside the staple peppermint?"

"Peppermint would be fine…you make it while I'll take a quick look at how things are going," smiled Arthur, and stepped towards the bathroom.

Arthur liked what he saw, and now fully appreciated Spencer's quest for towels at a good price. Their splash of colour on the shelving and radiator tamed the white of the room. He thought the blind the sort of thing Susan would have bought; she'd always liked bold colours. The psychologist slipped into the bedroom and was transfixed by the painting. Arthur liked the colours he'd chosen because they were both warm and calm. He could tell that new drapes were obviously on his shopping list along with a new bedspread… the turquoise didn't quite match the new colours of the room.

Arthur put his head round the living room door…work in progress…but he had got rid of the white. The older man did like that terrarium…it was rare to see them that size these days. Passing back into the vestibule, Arthur noted the sepia pictures and the bonsai plant on a nice chest of drawers…he thought that had been in the bedroom but it looked good here. Arthur joined Spencer in the kitchen and was pleased to see signs of Spencer cooking for himself and an attempt to drink more tea.

"My! It's looking good, although you obviously haven't finished yet, but I really like what I see, and that painting in the bedroom!"

"Yeah, I couldn't resist that…It's a JEM and cost a bit, but it's so special…." began Spencer and then decided that perhaps now was not the time. Arthur would be able to assess quite a lot about his personality from the transformation so far…

"I'm really impressed, I like what you've done to this room too. This yellow wall is perfect, and matching this table's sun burst design with the bright yellow wall is very clever. Don't tell me, you managed to get some bargains?"

"But that's what makes shopping fun!" stated Spencer, and beamed with the satisfaction of one who had good shopping days.

Arthur sat on the new kitchen chair, it was high backed and comfortable, overall, the transformation was showing another side to this talented man.

"How are you coping with being at home?" Arthur gently probed; he had seen the bedside lamp, positioned on the floor in a distant corner.

"O.K…I've been kept busy with the decorating…You know once you start you just want to finish because suddenly what you'd previously put up with now doesn't feel right…"

"No it doesn't, there's no going back to the pre-Georgia Spencer," Arthur softly said, "But you were changing before the kidnapping, the trauma just accelerated the process."

"Yeah, facing death like that…all those memories that the drugs opened up…I'm not the same. I mean, I'm still Spencer but I feel very old because of what's happened to me and I want to take life at a different pace."

Arthur nodded his head; the team was going to face a Spencer who they didn't really know when he went back, but then that was not a bad thing.

"How are you sleeping?" asked Arthur, trying to make it sound an innocent question.

Spencer looked him straight in the eye, he knew Arthur had seen the lamp.

"Not too badly. I couldn't settle the first night…the room at the Clinic always had that soft glow through the opaque glass. I just went back to what I used to do and put the lamp away from the bed, but it gives enough light to re-assure if I wake up disorientated. I've been feeling pretty tired with all the decorating, but I sleep about 5 or 6 hours a night…about the same as when I was at the Clinic. I do have vivid dreams but they can't be called nightmares as such…"

"I suppose you'll say you've had worse?"

"Yeah, that about sums it up," answered Spencer, his voice full of the resignation that he'd be experiencing vivid dreams for many more nights to come.

"You know we'll answer the phone if you ring us and we'll come and see you if you need us," Arthur stressed again the support available to Spencer.

"I know, but I feel that I'm coping and I'm not doing too badly at the moment."

"No, you're not. Max will be pleased when I tell him about this place now. You do know that Don would love an excuse to see it once you've finished."

"I'll have to call him and invite him round for coffee," replied Reid with a smile, he really was very fortunate to have his triad of expertise that still cared about him.

"He'd like that…he's going to be miffed that I've seen some of the transformation tonight…"

"Well I've got quite a way to go yet and that means more shopping trips!" Spencer said, sounding enthusiastic about the prospect.

Arthur shook his head as memories flooded back about shopping with this genius.

It was another night when he didn't get anymore of his book written, but he did get his books, DVDs and music put back and the roller blinds until he bought new ones to match new drapes. Reid decided on another lavender scented bath, hoping that it would help his sleep again. He quickly fell asleep and the only dreams he remembered were about a colleague who he had not thought of for 6 years.

Reid concluded that Wesley's long black mane of wild curls and bushy beard summed the man up. He was a wild type of genius, studying mathematics at Princeton, who had sought Reid out to ask him about a research paper he'd published 4 years previously. Wes just couldn't believe that he was wasting his theoretical mind on criminal psychology.

"Reid…what is it with you! You wrote a great mathematics doctorate, which others are now using to build their own research on, and you go off and do physics…OK. I can see some connection there, but to throw all that away for Donovan's department…"

"I've wide interests," Spencer replied quietly.

"You've a brilliant mind but it flits like a butterfly…you need to discipline it!" Wes boomed, his deep voice as large as his personality.

"I'm not a butterfly," Reid patiently countered, "I do study things in depth, but I need to find out what I really want to do…I enjoy psychology as it helps me understand the people around me,"… '_And things that happened with Mom_,' his voice whispered inside his head.

"Look, we're not like the others…We've got the label of genius stamped on us…It's something we never asked for …it's just who we are. The rest are never going to understand us. They label us as being socially awkward because we don't want to play their silly social games. When will they realise that we're bored with how 'Joe Public' lives! That it's tedious trying to hold conversations with these people because they have nothing stimulating to say…" Wesley ranted away over his coffee in Spencer's tiny apartment, that had been assigned to him on the edge of the campus.

"You were lucky, Wes, you went to a private school…I had the public education system…now that really is challenging!" Spencer countered, but he also knew that in a strange way, being forced to witness his less able peers had also fed his quest to understand why they behaved in the way they did.

"Jeez man! Don't know how you stayed sane!" Wes said with passion.

Spencer sadly smiled, it had not been easy but it had prepared him for wanting to work with people rather than in a purely theoretical field.

Three months later, the highly gifted 22 year old, had walked into the forest, near his home in upstate New York, and blew his brains out.

Professor Donovan had personally come to visit Spencer to tell him of Wesley's death. They had spoken into the early hours about the problems and isolation of being a genius and about how Wesley had been identified as being depressed as a 12 year old.

"When will people understand the true burden of being a genius?" Donovan had asked, as he sat opposite Spencer, both drinking yet another mug of coffee.

Spencer didn't know the answer then, and after his experiences of life, still felt that he didn't know…

"I don't think the ordinary public will ever understand that we will always be apart…Even you, Chris, can only observe from the outside and read other psychological studies…It really is another existence, within another world. I suppose to be a genius is to be an alien trapped in the human form…" said Spencer, trying to communicate with the man who had told him that his skills could be of use to a specialist unit headed by Dr. Gideon.

Spencer travelled to the small town to attend Wesley's funeral and had politely listened to the memories these small town folk had of their genius. Reid had listened with compassion to the brothers and parents, who shared their bewilderment with him…

"But he had so much to live for…everything had come so easy to him…"

"I don't understand…his research was all going so well…he was tipped as a future Nobel Prize winner…"

"Where did we go wrong?" the distressed parents turned to Spencer, hoping he would be able to give them an answer.

"You mustn't blame yourselves," Spencer said, "Sometimes no one is to blame…"

But to Professor Donovan, on the way back to Princeton, Reid quietly said, "Wes probably couldn't take the isolation any more…you see the intellect is not enough, even a genius needs an emotional life. Wesley didn't relate very well to the other people around him and he was very lonely…"

Spencer lay wide-awake; the dreamt images had been very vivid. It was only 05:30 but he knew he'd not sleep anymore. He got up and switched on the central light and padded off to the bathroom. He looked at his unshaven face. For a time at Princeton he had grown a beard, it had made him look like Shaggy from 'Scooby Do'! He reached for his shaver; he needed to look smart if he was going to do some serious furniture shopping.

He dressed in a good pair of mid-grey trousers and the new plain moss green shirt, matching it with a black silk tie with a tiny green motif. Spencer took the black corded fitted jacket out of the closet and laid it on his bed for later, and then went to the kitchen to prepare his breakfast. As he sat eating his toast and honey he reminded himself that he was not like Wesley…He tried to make an effort to fit in a little bit with the world around him. However, as he put on his jacket, and caught a glimpse of the very thin young man with long soft wavy hair…Spencer wondered if he would ever get to the point where he too felt that living in this world just wasn't enough for him anymore.

End of Chapter 13.


	14. Chapter 14

The In-Between Times: Chapter 14 

**by Helena Fallon.**

Spencer Reid sat at his kitchen table wondering how he was going to spend his weekend. He had been home over a week and had accomplished an enormous transformation; the apartment was beginning to have a look of a home with the individual touches of its occupant. As he sat on the comfortable black leather chair, he rested his elbows on the glass table top as he nursed his berry red mug of coffee. This time last Saturday, he had been painting this bright yellow wall. Once Spencer had an idea in his head, he liked to follow it through and there really wasn't anything else to do, other than his book. If he tackled that project too quickly he would need to set himself another task to fill his time and give himself direction. Reid had now decided to limit himself, to a chapter a night, after writing 4 chapters yesterday while waiting for all the furniture and furnishings to be delivered. Spencer had now finished 10 chapters; he sipped his coffee thoughtfully.

He still needed to get some more cushions but he liked what he had done so far, even if he now had to transfer money from his savings to pay the credit card bill. Spencer smiled to himself at the thought of the spending spree he had just been on. He had not spent so much money since actually buying this apartment. Reid was normally so fugal that the credit card company had actually rung to check that it was really the Dr. Spencer Reid who normally only bought music, books, food and gas. Once Spencer had explained, that he was finally decorating his apartment, the man interrogating him began to understand the sudden expenditure. However, Adrian, as he had identified himself, had also assumed that Reid now had a partner who had encouraged the sudden change in spending habits. Spencer decided that it was simpler to let these people think that, but Reid was also impressed, and re-assured, that the change in his spending habits had been picked up.

After he had finished the actual decorating on the Monday, the next three days had been spent hunting down the furniture and furnishings. On the Tuesday, he had begun the hunt for a new couch and a dining table. Spencer had wanted something in a classical style that would not date. He didn't like bright coloured couches and knew he wanted a dark brown leather to enhance the warmth of the room. He was not a black leather and chrome man, it might suit Morgan's tastes, but Spencer liked natures growing colours. Suitably dressed, he went to four of the best furniture retailers before he found the couch he wanted. It wasn't just the rich chestnut brown he had been seeking, but it was also comfortable for his long legs and spine with its deep seat and high back. Spencer also bought the matching chair and recliner because he knew that these where going to last him many years and were consequently worth every penny. When these pieces were delivered yesterday, he had the chair placed in the bedroom, in the corner by the window, while the recliner and large couch, that could easily seat four people, went in the area at the far end of the living room.

The dining table was found in the second retailers; a simple rectangular design, but its walnut wood was the attraction. The beautiful natural pattern of the grain sold the piece to him before the assistant even got to Spencer, and he also bought 6 high backed walnut dining chairs with chestnut brown leather seats and backs. The matching sideboard was also of a clean, unfussy design allowing the wood's natural grain to sell the piece. It was 5 foot long and only 2 foot deep with two cupboards, either side four central drawers; plain oval brass handles completed the pleasing looks. The dining furniture had been delivered first, at 8:30, before Goodwill had arrived to take the old things away. For a few minutes, the vestibule was very crowded and Spencer had to push the old couch into the doorway of the bedroom to enable the men to get the sideboard in. The table went near the first window, at the opposite end to where the couch was to go, and Spencer felt very satisfied with the way he was finally defining areas in this substantial room.

Spencer had moved his desk, with his computer, to the middle window and this acted as an invisible dividing line for the room. The couch was lined up with the start of the third window and the recliner was set opposite this final window. To the left and right of the middle window were two new 6 foot high oak bookcases, which sat neatly in the spaces between the first and third windows. These new bookcases were quickly filled with books that had once been neatly stacked on the floor. Behind the couch, but inline with the desk, was the 'Go' table and he placed two of the dining chairs, either side, for the players.

Two more identical tall oak bookcases also stood in the vestibule, opposite the bathroom, and another in the bedroom, on the opposite wall to his bed and near the closets. Next to this bookcase he had a smaller one, only 3 foot high but 4 foot long, that sat beneath his JEM painting. The leather chair was next to this smaller oak bookcase and Spencer thought that it summed him up well; he loved books and when he couldn't sleep, he would read. The new table lamps he had bought with Arthur were now either side of the bed and the old one, he had been using to help him sleep, was on the small bookcase, at the chair end.

Spencer got another mug of coffee and wandered into his living room and placed the mug down on the new coffee table; it was a rectangular shape with a shelf under, but made again of walnut. The beautiful pattern of the top was protected by clear glass, it had been very expensive but Reid knew he wanted it and felt it would last years. He walked over to the windows to open up the drapes and blinds. The drapes for both the living room and the bedroom had been another whole days searching on the Wednesday. He had amused Arthur, when they had met for lunch, with his exploits for the drapes. Spencer had taken the search very seriously and he was not going to put up with second best. Armed with his samples of the wall colours, Spencer had doggedly gone round 15 shops and met, what seemed to him, an army of female assistants who flocked to his side to give their advice in every shop.

In the eighth shop he had found the bedroom drapes, they were a heavy lined Jacquard silk in the Mediterranean blue colour; they looked beautiful when the light caught them against the pale walls. In the tenth shop he found the blinds to compliment those drapes, in a soft white, with a linen effect. The living room drapes had been the hardest to find, but the last shop held the ideal pattern. He had never thought that the teal colour was going to be so hard to accommodate for the drapes. However, the very patient greying Afro-American had a marvellous sense of colour and design and Spencer appreciated her suggestions. He had at first been looking for something in pale peppermint to contrast with the teal and match the rest of the colour scheme. Cindy listened and tried to find fabrics that fell into that colour spectrum, but none seemed right. However, she then said that perhaps he needed to think more boldly, especially as it was a large room. Cindy then took Spencer to another display and showed him the drapes that now graced this spacious room. They were an ivory with bold stylised teal and peppermint leaves, some with gold thread for veins and others with silver and then there were the random vibrant red flowers, the colour of holly berries, with gold and silver centres. There was also an ivory co-ordinating blind, which faintly ghosted the drapes design but on a miniature scale. Reid had been grateful for Cindy's expertise because he was very weary and was about to give up for that day. However, after his evening meal, he had felt re-vitalised and put up his new drapes in both rooms before going to bed.

Spencer opened the drapes by the dining table, and his eyes fell on the second JEM painting that he had bought after having lunch with Arthur. He was so close to the Torpedo Factory Art Centre that he couldn't resist dropping in…it had just arrived and Spencer was captured once again by this artist's gift with oils. This canvas was called 'Northern Lights' and was an abstract interpretation, of the strange phenomena within the Polar Region; the aurora borealis. It was a large rectangular work, 5 foot long and 3 foot tall, of wonderful colour that leapt off the canvas. Swirls, splashes, blobs and dashes of reds, blues, greens, a hint of yellow, purple and indigo together with a tone of a dull deep pink, peeping out of all the activity. It was a restless piece and Spencer thought it represented his own waking mind quite well!

"You like JEM's work, don't you?" Greg the dealer quietly said, coming up beside him.

Spencer didn't take his eyes off the image, "It's magnificent. I would like this, but there's no price tag?"

"That's because the artist has only just delivered it and I've not had a chance to put one on!" the small balding man said, his pale grey eyes alert with amusement. Greg had a reputation locally for dealing with the very best of the Virginian artists.

"$900…and I'll mount it for you on your wall because it will take two of us to do it … this is quite a weight and will need to be done properly…"

"Would you? I know where I want it in my living room," Spencer replied, his eyes still on the painting.

"How does the 'Mist over St. Marks' look?" Greg asked intrigued by this young man who he'd often seen over the past few years browsing, but now in less than a week was buying his most successful artist. The dealer looked carefully at the customer; he didn't look well at all, too pale and far too thin.

"If you put it up for me I'll show you where I've hung it, so you can tell the artist that his work is in good hands…"

"Done!…But I'll let you into a little known fact," Greg's voice teased and Spencer turned to look at him, "JEM is a woman," he whispered, and watched Spencer's eyes widen in surprise.

"Really! You can't tell from her work, at times so delicate and others so bold and strong," replied the young man in a soft thoughtful voice.

"JEM's not one to like the limelight but I've known her for about three years now, she only paints in her spare time…Few artists can live off their art these days and she left New York where she would have had a wider market."

"Then it's our gain…Is she from these parts?"

"Yes, she's a Virginian. Now Phil and I could bring this when we close tonight, anytime after 6 o'clock?" asked Greg, suddenly changing the subject. Spencer thought Greg had probably felt he had revealed a little too much about JEM, so Spencer didn't press further that line of interest.

Greg and his son, Phil, had hung the painting for Spencer and he had made them Earl Grey tea and showed them where he had placed the other JEM. The men were very impressed with his décor and Spencer explained that the new furniture was arriving the next day and the walnut sideboard would be placed beneath this canvas, as they were of a similar length.

Spencer felt that he had made two new friends that night, as the men stayed for nearly 2 hours and chatted about art and music. Greg left with the promise of putting Spencer on his e-mailing list about future evening events, which he held around four times a year, that helped new artists to be seen and some liked to meet the public. Reid was warned that JEM wasn't likely to turn up despite the locals being curious about her.

Spencer sat in the recliner, drinking his coffee and continued wondering what he would do on this Saturday. He would write another chapter tonight, but he had a whole day to fill and it was only 08:03 according to his clock on his new television. He had already been to the bakers for his bagels and supply of doughnuts for the day; the weather looked overcast and it was cooler than yesterday. Reid finally decided to go down to the Farmer's Market and get some fresh fruit and vegetables and then wander around the craft stalls aswell, in case he found something else for his home.

A couple of hours later, his old car was not sounding very well as it spluttered upwards towards his street. Spencer was very attached to this old Volvo, it had been the family car and he had driven it from Las Vegas all the way back to Harvard, the Easter after his Mom had been admitted to Bennington. The family home was sold and he had put books and a few precious things into store. The sanatorium had allowed his mother to have a few personal pieces of furniture like her favourite chair and bookcase for her tiny room. However, most of the family furnishings had suffered through neglect; his mother had not been the cleanest of people and sometimes she would vandalise things she thought contained bugging equipment. Spencer still had the good china, and the odd trinket, that had not been smashed but they were safely boxed up in the closet. The old car sounded definitely sick so he hoped Dennis would be able to fix it; he'd have to ring him on Monday.

Spencer coached the vehicle into his parking space and collected his shopping off the passenger seat. He was at a loose end and it wasn't even midday. How was he going to cope with sick leave now his major project was almost finished? He was pondering this as he opened his apartment door to the sound of his cell ringing; he'd forgotten to put it in the warm grey jacket he was wearing. It was too early for Arthur so he was intrigued.

"Hello," he breathlessly managed, not checking the number display.

"It's Craig, you sound breathless…is everything all right?" the voice asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I was just opening the door when I heard the phone…I'd forgotten to take it with me?"

"You're human enough to forget things?" the voice teased.

"It was in the jacket I was wearing yesterday…and I didn't check before leaving…I find not working as left me a bit disorientated from my usual routines," confessed Spencer.

"Yes, it can do that," the voice sympathised, "I was calling because I wondered if you'd like to spend the afternoon over here and perhaps you'd like to stay and share our evening meal with us?"

"That would be good but I'll have to come on the train… my car's sounding sick," Reid confessed, and heard Craig chuckle.

"That car of yours is almost vintage! You ought to buy a new one with your salary."

"Hey, I've been spending this past week …I've been decorating and refurbishing my home," Spencer countered.

"Oh boy, you should have said, my sister's an interior designer and could probably have got you some discounts…Anyway, how about me meeting you off the 3 o'clock train?"

"Yeah, right that'll be good, see you at three then,"

Spencer ended the call and went to put his food away and find places for his recent buys from the craft stalls. He carefully unwrapped the wooden mice and cat, which had been made to put on a shelf as it was peering down in a crouching position. Reid put it on the top of the bookcase, near the couch end of the room and then placed the three mice at various levels along the shelves. Spencer stepped back and grinned to himself…it was just a sense of fun to stop the room looking too serious!

The train was approaching the outskirts of Dale City; Craig and Melinda lived about 10 miles north of this place, but this was their nearest station. Spencer had been to their home a couple of times before, over the past 18 months, but each time had been interrupted by a call to work. Fortunately, they understood because Craig was a surgeon at the Burns Unit and they joked at the Dowland Society, if a phone rang…it was always one or the other of them, summoned to work. Spencer had liked Craig and Melinda from the first time he'd met them, nearly two years ago now, when Craig had left New York and brought his experience back to Virginia. They were a quiet, warm couple, with two young children under the age of five; the atmosphere of their home reminded Spencer of the Bishops'. Craig occasionally mentioned a younger sister, who liked early music, but Spencer had never met her. It appeared that whenever the sister had come to the Dowland meetings then Spencer had been working and at other times, she had choir practice. The train stopped and he made his way to the exit.

"There's Mr. Magic!" the enthusiastic child's voice told the other people mingling in the entrance of the station.

Spencer grinned; Lydia had been shopping with her Mom when they had met, while Spencer had been on his 'drapes hunt'. Spencer had charmed her by magically producing a dime from behind her ear.

Craig grinned back; he was broad shouldered and 6 foot tall of lean muscle, although probably 10 years older than Spencer, they had an easy friendship right from the start because of their love of lute music. Craig's broad open face was gentle and the man often smiled, his whole being gave off a confident steady air, which a surgeon in his position needed when dealing with such damaged patients and their loved ones.

"It's good to see you. Melinda said that you were shopping and looked pretty tired when she saw you on Wednesday," Craig said observing with a medical eye, the very thin and tired looking man before him.

"Yeah, I spent all of Wednesday looking for the right drapes for the bedroom and living room...it was quite an experience!" he confessed, and felt Lydia take his hand. He smiled down at her; she had her father's tight curls but in a straw yellow, rather than the father's dark brown, and Craig's dark eyes. Spencer always thought that blond hair and dark brown eyes were very unusual, but his brain instantly told him that often the hair darkened at puberty. Lydia began to tell him about her kitten, "Boots", for the rest of the journey, while Craig drove to the small community where they lived.

Craig was worried by Spencer's appearance; he'd always been thin but this was serious and he noticed more twitchy nervous movements than usual. Although Spencer had sent round an e-mail saying he'd been hurt on the job, there had been no other explanation. Melinda, a trained nurse, had been upset over Spencer's appearance and Craig was just beginning to understand why…They had both recognised some symptoms of post traumatic stress; they had seen it all before close to home.

The large detached house, in a leafy street, looked cared for and the wide ivy green door swung open to greet their arrival. Melinda stood on the threshold holding Ben; another yellow haired, dark eyed child, who was fast approaching his first birthday.

Spencer was soon swept in and given a mug of coffee and large slice of chocolate cake, which Melinda felt sure he could easily find a space for.

Ben crawled happily away to play with some plastic building blocks and a red and white musical ball, which Lydia seemed to like rolling to her brother. Each time the soft sphere gently hit Ben's plump body, he giggled with delight. The game was occasionally joined by Boots, who would attack the moving target, sending the soft ball careering away from the fascinated Ben.

"Oh they'll be happy for hours," said Craig, "That kitten was the last one of the litter from the hospital boiler room, I got talked into it... I'm a dog person myself."

Spencer grinned, why was it that so many men were afraid to admit that they liked cats? "I like cats, I guess it's the fact that you never feel that you own a cat because of that air of independence they have."

"Feline superiority you mean," grinned Craig, "Let's go to the study, we can talk there without being interrupted." Craig led the way to the book lined room off the hallway, overlooking the back garden.

Spencer followed him with his coffee, and let the calm ambience of this warm family home wrap round his weary body. When they had sat down, on the high-backed burgundy leather chairs, Craig gave his guest a searching look.

"Spencer are you all right?" Craig softly asked, but Spencer could not mistake the serious and concerned tone in the soft voice.

"Yeah, I'm on the mend," the guest re-assured, and Spencer retreated behind his defences, not wanting to touch upon the reasons for his sick leave.

"You know Melinda was really worried after she'd seen you on Wednesday…we both care about our friends," said Craig carefully, who knew that this conversation, which he had rehearsed in his head, was not going as planned already.

"It's OK, Craig, I'm on the mend…" Spencer repeated, hoping that Craig would let the matter drop.

"Bullshit!" Craig said softly. But hearing the word coming from this gentle mannered man surprised Spencer, "I'm a doctor, Melinda was once a nurse with ER training, so we both know that's not quite true...No let me finish," Craig insisted, as he saw Spencer about to interrupt, " We know PTSD when we see it, from watching another at close quarters…You're an FBI agent and the few Quantico people, who attend the Dowland evenings, have been very quiet about the enquiries …You know, 'Seen anything of Spencer?', or Dora's more direct, 'Has anything happened to Spencer?' A lot of people rang one another after your general e-mail. The Quantico Brotherhood, as we call them, were keeping silent, the most we got was, 'He got hurt and he's on sick leave,' Honestly, I really thought I'd have to ask my Dad to pull a few favours…"

"Your Dad?" asked Spencer intrigued, he had never gone into Craig's background.

"Yeah, he's Judge Alan Petersen," replied Craig and watched with satisfaction the look on his guest's face, "I don't like name dropping and we children have always been told that we were to make our own way in our careers but not to do anything to damage Dad's position."

Spencer looked into the dark concerned eyes, he knew instinctively that he could trust Craig with the truth of sorts.

"The truth is I've been in an exclusive clinic. Over two months ago I was kidnapped, drugged and tortured while on the job…in the end, I killed the guy who had mental health problems…multiple personalities. When I came home, I sent out the standard e-mail. But seriously, I've got the Head of the FBI Mental Health Services at Quantico on my case, and two of his best people, so I'm being kept track of now I'm home. The decorating thing was one of the projects I've been given to help me pick up my life again. Every day, my psych, Arthur rings to keep contact."

"Good, I'm relieved to hear that. It's only because Melinda and I care about our friends that I pressed the issue and I'll not say anything to anyone else, other than you're on the mend. So, what have you been doing to you're apartment?"

For the next half-hour Spencer recounted his exploits, occasionally adding his own insights on his situation. Craig listened attentively; this was the first time that Spencer had revealed more personal details.

"I really surprised Arthur. I don't think he realised just how socialised I am, despite being a genius, but I had to do the shopping at an early age…"

"Why…was your Mom ill?"

"Yeah…she hated shopping anyway and was far too interested in her studies of mediaeval literature," Spencer passed over the question quickly and went on to describing his paintings.

"Oh you like JEM's too…We have a few, one in the dining room and a couple in the bedrooms…"

Suddenly the conversation was interrupted by Lydia's excited shouting announcing to the household, "Auntee Jo, it's Auntee Jo!"

Craig looked totally surprised, "Sorry, Spencer, this is unexpected but I've always wanted you to meet Jo,"

"Yeah, I think every time I've seen you at the Dowland Society you tell me she came the time I didn't…I was beginning to think that the mysterious Jo was some kind of 'in joke' between you and Melinda…"

"Come and meet my little sister, she loves early music and has a fine voice," said Craig smiling warmly, and Spencer followed him out to the hall.

Melinda was opening the door and the men were just in time to see Lydia fling herself into her Aunt's arms for a hug, and Ben was not far behind crawling along to be part of the welcome. The dark curly haired woman, dressed in a black cord jacket and denim jeans, bent down to pick up Ben and she tickled his tummy playfully.

"Hello little dumpling," she said to him, as the boy happily gurgled and dribbled and tried to answer back in his own babbling way.

She turned her attention to the adults, and Spencer was immediately struck by the likeness of the two siblings: the hair, the broad open face and the dark eyes.

"Sorry to just drop in without warning," she said, smiling at Spencer warmly, "But I just managed to find a real bargain and its solved your anniversary present from me for this year,"

"It's another four months before our anniversary," said Melinda, who was puzzled and tried not to appear too eager.

"Oh, I just knew you would appreciate it and see I was meant to bring it directly here…Look… two men all ready to carry the box!" she explained, winding up the suspense.

"What box that takes two men to carry?" asked Craig, playing along.

"The one the storekeeper and assistant managed to get in my trunk. Come along, Melinda's dying to know what's inside it!"

Craig grinned at Spencer, "God knows what she's found, these interior designers have weird and wonderful haunts," he confided.

"They do! I can't say that I've ever met one before," replied Spencer, following Craig out to Jo's car. Melinda and Lydia were already beside the silver Lexus waiting for the trunk to open.

"Just don't drop it guys or Melinda will kill you!" Jo warned them, as they carried the large heavy cardboard box into the kitchen as instructed.

"I want to warn you, Jo," began Craig, "This guy is an FBI agent and I don't think you're supposed to threaten them."

"Really," she paused for a moment, "I was not personally threatening anyone, I was just passing on the possibility of dire consequences if you two dropped it,"

"Dad always reckoned she should've done law," said Craig, in a stage whisper.

They lifted the box on to the table and Melinda found a large pair of household scissors to slit the packing tape.

"What's inside, Mommee?" Lydia asked, her excitement making her all fidgety.

Jo was still holding Ben, who was content to look on.

"Are you going to introduce us?" Jo said pointedly to her brother.

"Sorry…Spencer this is my sister, Jo…Jo this is Spencer, the lutenist…"

"You're real! I began to think you were a mass illusion shared by the Dowland Society!" she exclaimed, "Oh this is wonderful, have you brought your lute?"

"No…I didn't think…" began Spencer apologetically.

"Jo we invited him over for the afternoon and to share our meal…" Craig interjected defensively.

"Oh! Jo! These …how can I ever thank you!" Melinda's voice cut in.

All attention turned to Melinda and the box. Melinda was carefully unwrapping an assortment of pieces from a set of expensive fine bone china.

"It was a store that was closing down in a tiny town on the west side of Fredericksburg. I was coming back from a rural craft fair that way…I don't think they knew what they had, said they hadn't sold any of that design in 10 years. The owner had died at Christmas and the daughter had sold the premises and was disposing of the stock. I just said I'd take it because I knew someone who had the service. There's enough to complete your Mom's dinner service now and there's a few spares…"

"Look Craig, there's even a tureen and a spare lid and a replacement coffee pot and …it must have cost the earth, Jo. This has been a discontinued line for over 15 years, my Mom had tried to find replacements before she died…"

"Look, it was a bargain, those people just wanted it off their hands quickly. I gave them a good price, so I can live with my conscience," Jo justified, "I think its really nice to be able to help you complete the thing your Mom really treasured…She had so many happy memories connected with this china and I hope that the tradition will continue with you."

Spencer watched the interchange and felt the warmth between the family gathered in the kitchen. Melinda was fighting back tears with the emotions that surfaced along with memories, but Spencer only sensed the goodness of happy memories brought out into the light with pleasure. He also noticed for the first time Jo's left hand, as Melinda came over to her to give her a hug of gratitude, that would express more than words from her full heart. Spencer recognised the deep scars of defensive knife wounds and wondered who had attacked this warm and vibrant young woman. Was this what Craig was intimating when he said that they understood the symptoms of PTSD because of seeing it at close quarters?

"Oh, I'm sorry, Spencer, we're neglecting you," Melinda suddenly said.

"Don't be silly, I was glad to be of some help with the box and like Jo said, this is a very special bargain and one to be treasured," replied Spencer, who found the words forming spontaneously, but saw that Melinda was pleased with his understanding of the emotional content of the gift.

"Spencer's been decorating his apartment all week…" Craig began, knowing his sister would take it from there…

"Have you, what have you done? Come along Lydia, lets leave Mommy and Daddy to put that very special china away, and you can make Uncle Spencer and me some tea with your tea set…"

Lydia disappeared to find her toys and to set about her task.

"Sorry, Spencer, but she'll want to help and its not wise at her age," Jo whispered, as she led the way into the family room that was full of toys and books and the television, in a corner, if all else failed to entertain this lively little girl.

They sat down together on a couch and Ben wriggled free to explore the floor and his toys.

"Now you were going to tell me about your decorating…" she said, turning towards him and Spencer felt the full impact of her dark eyes. The irises were a very dark brown that, in certain light, gave the impression that they were black; not a sinister cold colour, but large and comforting. The more you looked, the more you were drawn under their spell. Before he could consciously worry about getting nervous, he was telling Craig's sister about his exploits of decorating and shopping, even about the trip with Arthur. In the middle of all of this, they had played a tea party game with Lydia, before the playful kitten had arrived to distract her by attacking a piece of string with a catnip mouse attached. It was a game Lydia had often played with Boots and neither seemed to tire of it. Ben came back to his Aunt, who picked him up, and he contentedly snuggled up to her and fell asleep on her lap, ignoring everything else going on around him.

When Craig returned, he found them deep into conversation about the music of John Dowland and the role of the Silver poets in Elizabethan literature. He decided that he'd not interrupt and went back to the kitchen.

"Does Spencer or Jo need anything?" enquired the attentive Melinda.

"No, I just thought I'd be a bit of a gooseberry…You know how we always thought they'd get on well…"

"We don't say a word to anybody," Melinda said firmly, but the two of them shared knowing smiles…Well it had taken two years to finally introduce them and then it hadn't been planned, but life could be like that sometimes.

Four hours later, Spencer found himself being driven homewards by Jo who, coincidentally, also lived in Alexandria about 10 minutes drive away from his apartment. She wouldn't dream of him going back by train and they were quickly planning to go to a craft fair together the next day, so he could look for more cushions, while Jo was always on the look out for things she could use in her work. She pulled into the small parking area belonging to his apartment block.

"Spencer, I'm going to sound very nosy, but it's my job as an interior designer, er…I really…"

"Would you like to come up and see it?" but he knew the answer, and he actually wanted her professional opinion on his efforts. Spencer admitted to himself that the apartment now revealed a lot more about the owner and he wanted this woman to see his home and crucially, he wanted Jo to like what she saw.

As she took the elevator with him, Jo was amazed at herself; she didn't normally behave like this with people she had only just met. However, she justified her actions to herself by rationalising that Spencer was a trusted friend of Craig and Melinda and he was with the FBI. But for the first time in over four years, she felt comfortable with a man outside of work.

Spencer opened his door and went before her, turning on the lights to the rooms.

"Go ahead and look around, I'll make some tea if you like?" he suggested, remembering from the conversations at Craig's home that this woman preferred tea to coffee, didn't eat red meat and didn't like strong tasting or oily fish." He busied himself in the kitchen putting together his teapot, jug and sugar bowl and cups and saucers all on the shiny black tray.

She had gone to the bathroom first, then the bedroom, where she lingered by the bookcases and noted the titles. Jo looked at bookcases in the vestibule and admired the chest of drawers. The interior designer poked her head round the kitchen door to admire the yellow wall and the table and chairs and thought the etchings were very effective. The zebra blind, she declared, was a dramatic use of pattern and colour that complimented the whole effect of his kitchen. She left Spencer pouring boiling water over Darjeeling tea and entered the living room.

Jo went over to the drapes and closed them to admire their pattern within the overall effect of the room. When Spencer arrived carrying the tray of tea things, Jo was lost in the painting.

"Northern Lights" she said, "it looks just right here."

Spencer placed the tray on the coffee table and looked up at her, how did she know?"

Jo turned and gave him the most open and fullest smile he'd seen from her, "You may be a criminal profiler but, if you ever want a change of career, you could go for interior design…you have a natural flair for it. Don't look so sceptical; interior designers need to profile clients to enable them to dress their homes in a way that expresses their client's personality…"

The man smiled at her, "I was impressed that you knew the painting."

He watched as her face momentarily mirrored the internal debate of her mind. Suddenly the barriers, which had been down from the moment he had met her, snapped up into a defensive position. She turned away from him and back to the canvas.

"Yes, I do know it," she said softly, " I…I…"

Spencer felt doubt sweep through her, something that he had not sensed before, had he touched upon a distressing memory?

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry, but the title is on the back so you obviously have seen it before, probably where I bought it…" Spencer soothed, not wanting to upset this interesting woman.

"The Torpedo Factory," she smiled back at him, once more confident and warm, "I get a lot of things I use in my work locally." Jo turned back to the painting, a few more moments passed lost in thought, but then she suddenly changed course.

"This apartment is really beautiful, Spencer, it's so warm and interesting and the use of colour…You know too many men go for minimal, neutral, black and chrome…and to me it's lifeless! Real people have possessions, and colour is important in our lives to express our personalities; neutral tones have to be used very carefully to show off possessions. However, it often ends up just reflecting the rather colourless personalities of the occupants, who choose it, and who are afraid to see beyond the style magazines…they can't think for themselves!"

"Well, I'm glad I'm not a minimalist, I couldn't live without my books and music."

"I should hope not, you're supposed to be a genius so I expected to see divergent interests and I've not been disappointed…The carpet here is a traditional design but it's perfect with the furniture, the red really shows off the walnut coffee table and the chestnut of the couch. I love the terrarium and the bonsai tree and its really wonderful to find a man who's not afraid to use a vase properly. That's a beautiful piece of glass," she enthused as she turned to admire the tall modern vase, placed on the berry red table runner, in the centre of the walnut table. The vase was clear except for two fine long black lines that reached, from a berry red oval to one side near the vase's bottom, to almost the rim. Spencer had placed three white lilies in the vase that morning and now he felt the glow of her praise.

"Overall, it's a wonderful mix of the old and the new and it really works! You can come and work at Fairfax Estates any time, I'll recommend you to my uncle…he owns it, with his wife," she said, and watched him assimilate the information.

"Fairfax Estates, I'm very impressed…you're on the accredited list for FBI accommodation."

"Yes, and my aunt and uncle have worked hard over the years to build up their business. We have very strict vetting procedures for all our tenants and workforce. I'm very fortunate to work for them, but if I ever betrayed the trust they have given me then they would dismiss me…I may be family, but I'm just one of their employees at the end of the day."

Spencer nodded, beginning to understand a little of the work that was entrusted to her discretion. Fairfax Estates housed Pentagon officials, and the like, and such trust was not quickly bought but had been earned over the years.

Jo came to sit on the recliner, Spencer was conscious of the move; here was a woman with a male she had only just met and was consequently keeping some distance between them, no matter how well they seemed to be getting on. Her eyes looked towards the bookcase and she grinned with sheer amusement.

"I like the cat and mice, where did you find those?"

"At the Farmer's Market today," Spencer replied, pleased that she understood their purpose in this room that revealed the man's intellect.

Her dark eyes fell upon the lute case.

"Would you like me to play my lute a little, while you drink your tea?" he asked shyly, wondering if he was sounding too egocentric about his abilities.

Spencer saw Jo's face light up in a mixture of delight and wonderment, "Would you?…You've never been at the meetings when I attended."

Spencer smiled and smoothly rose and went over to the case. He opened it up on the floor and lifted the instrument carefully out, carrying it lovingly back to the couch. Jo watched transfixed; the man who had previously exhibited some nervous mannerisms, seemed to be transformed to a state of serenity once the lute was in his hands. Spencer positioned the lute and adjusted the tuning. The woman watched how the restless fingers, that often gesticulated his speech, were now tamed to play the many strings. Suddenly the room was filled with the enchantment of Dowland and Jo understood all that the members of the Dowland Society had tried to express in words. Here was a lutenist who was not just technically able to play the difficult instrument, but also had the sensitivity to bring alive the emotions of the lute aswell.

She watched; her eyes never leaving the player as he seemed to become melded to his lute. The long wavy hair suited this lutenist; he had a nervous habit of pushing stray strands behind his ears, but this was forgotten now he was playing. Spencer was far too thin for doublet and hose she mused but, noted that like herself, he wore odd socks. Jo wondered just how he had been hurt but dared not ask; she had noticed that afternoon, some of the mannerisms of one suffering from post traumatic stress. However, Spencer was another person once he was expressing himself in music. They did not speak; the music spoke for them. She was content to sit captured by this private recital, and the lutenist was happy to sense her relax and let the music bewitch her. Spencer played for over an hour, occasionally having to retune, but the dark eyed lady watched in fascination and didn't break the magic of the room by speaking.

It was nearly 11 o'clock, so Spencer brought the music to an end with the Fantasie No.3. The last notes lingered on the air, and Jo heard herself sigh with the emotion of it all.

"Farewell, how appropriate," she whispered, reluctant to end the spell, but both knew that she had to leave, "Thank you, that was so beautiful," but there were not the words to express the emotional warmth that filled her during the recital.

Spencer sat back on the couch, still holding the lute close, "You're a very appreciative audience, so the pleasure was all mine," he said softly and watched her glow in the compliment. They exchanged smiles; it had been a special hour for both of them.

"I really must go," Jo reluctantly said, breaking the enchantment, and rising.

"I'll walk you to your car," Spencer said, not wanting her to go alone, despite the safe reputation this area had. Jo smiled her thanks, and they went in companionable silence to the silver Lexus.

"I'll collect you about 9:30," she said as she got into the driver's seat, and gave him a wonderful smile of trust, "Goodnight, Spencer,"

"Goodnight, see you tomorrow,"

Spencer watched her leave the car park and felt a part of him had left with the dark eyed lady. When he returned to the living room, he smelt the gentle perfume that still lingered by the recliner…it had a delicate jasmine base. He replaced his lute in its case and treasured the memory of the music they had shared that evening. Spencer marvelled at the wisdom of Craig, who had often told him that he hoped one day he'd meet his sister because they had quite a lot in common. Reid smiled to himself, he wondered if she always wore odd socks…

The man washed up the tea things and prepared for bed. He had been sleeping badly all week with vivid dreams, usually about his kidnapping, waking him about 5 o'clock every morning. The distant lamp, on the low bookcase, gave out its supportive light as he lay on his bed; he couldn't seem to forget her sensitive face, totally caught up in the emotions of the music. Jo was not like any other woman he had met; she had a sensitivity and interests to match his own in the arts and music. Spencer hoped something would come of this new friendship and realised that with Jo he had not stuttered nervously, blushed or been too overpowering with his facts…Well not too much, he conceded to his inner self! But Jo had only laughed and said that he was on her charity quiz team at future hospital fundraisers. It gave him hope that she wanted this tentative friendship to also continue. Spencer wondered who had hurt her and what was the significance of 'Northern Lights'? He fell asleep pondering about these unknowns, hoping that one day Jo would trust him enough to tell him the answers.

End of Chapter 14


	15. Chapter 15

The In-Between Times: Chapter 15 

**by Helena Fallon**

**Quantico**

Max sat in his office reading Arthur's report; it was the fourth lunch he had taken with Reid at the Orchard Basket. Overall the young agent seemed to be recovering quite well, although he admitted he still had disturbed nights, and he had been quite busy recently. He now considered his apartment to be finished except for finding a piece of artwork for the feature wall in his bedroom. But what was of interest was the social diary, that he had been e-mailing to Don each week, and had expanded upon with his lunch meetings. Reid seemed to be visiting people, attending lunch time concerts aswell as evening ones, movies and the theatre, but both Don and Arthur sensed that he was being very secretive…Arthur suspected that the young man was not attending these places on his own. Max was delighted; finally Reid was putting his knowledge of psychology into practice and trying to find a lasting companion. It might take him years but Max, Arthur and Don were of the opinion that once Reid was regularly socialising, then some woman would make herself available. The problem was, of course, that sick leave might help to encourage a relationship but it might not survive the rigours of the reality of the job.

Max looked at the BAU's most recent psych evaluations. Hotch seemed to be concerned about the lack of down time the team was getting. They had just had 3 cases running back to back and Hotch had only slept in his own bed once in three weeks. They were still working with 'one man' down, but that was out of choice, after Barry didn't seem to fit in the group dynamics and Gideon was not impressed with the other names put forward. Max was interested in the individual agents' comments on their group; they all mentioned the sense of missing Reid, even Prentiss who was relatively new to the team.

Max wondered about sending Reid on an advanced psychologist's course, to hone his skills for assessing group dynamics. If he managed to get through his restructuring plans for the BAU, then they would need a second senior psych to run with the second team. Max thought Hotchner might want to keep Gideon for the first team, but perhaps Reid could be the lead psych for the second. If they gave the second team an experienced lead agent, who could steady the ship, then the pressure would be off Hotchner. Max was quite concerned that Hotchner was going to end up breaking because of the workload.

There was a firm knock on his door. Max looked up, he wasn't expecting any interruptions but his door was open which meant he was available.

"Agent Hotchner, please come in and close the door," Max invited with a friendly smile, "What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering how Reid is getting on?" the dark suited man asked, the tired eyes betraying the pressure of work that he was under.

"Actually, I was just reviewing the reports from my people on his case. Would you like some coffee?"

"No thanks, I've been drinking far too much recently…"

"Tea?" Max tried again.

"Nothing really, I just came to find out about Reid…You know the team miss him. Morgan even went to his apartment, last week, but he wasn't there."

"I thought I'd made it clear that Spencer had firmly requested, to my people, that he didn't want to see the team until he returns. I would like you all to understand the importance of that, if need be, I'll speak to Agent Morgan myself."

"I already have…I told the team on the plane when I overheard what he'd done, but they are all still affected by what happened to Reid."

Max leaned back in his chair and observed the Unit Chief, was he pressing to find out when his agent could return? Max decided to change the subject.

"How is Agent Jareau? She has had a very good psych evaluation, but she's been in this place too long and knows how to put on a pretty convincing show for the innocent psychologist."

"The month off obviously helped her, but she has been back two months…it's not like with Reid," replied the Unit Chief, with a hint of annoyance that Max had not answered his question.

"No it's not. Reid was kidnapped, drugged and tortured…Agent Jareau faced a very difficult situation and acquitted herself well, but she did not face anything like Reid's ordeal and she was still traumatised."

Hotch felt the words slap him hard across his face. Max was excellent at his job. Hotch knew that Max and Gideon had a prickly relationship and Max had a reputation for taking Gideon to task whereas others in the Bureau gave him a lot of slack, himself included. However, Hotch wanted to know about his youngest agent…

"How is Reid?" he stated again; he tried to follow up on him every week.

"You still feel you failed with him, don't you?" Max gently asked, "Reid doesn't blame anyone in the team for what happened to him. He's on the mend, he has been keeping busy and I hope that when he returns he'll once more be a valuable member of the BAU."

"You didn't say team…Don't you see him returning to the team?" asked Hotch, his sharp legal mind picking up on the other man's words. Max observed the man opposite, the strong jaw line steady and determined, even when tired Hotchner was a formidable agent.

"There maybe changes…and Hotch this is not to be mentioned outside this room…" the two men locked eyes, two strong discreet men coming to an unspoken trust, "The Mental Health team think that the BAU is under severe pressure with an extremely poor work/life balance…"

"Tell my wife about it…You know the schedule we've been working recently…"

"Yes, its totally unhealthy, and I've been in informal discussions with the Director about some changes I would like to see implemented. Your team is over-worked, everyone is tired and you all need a break…especially after the 3 cases you've just worked. I've been trying to convince the powers that be, that we need two permanent teams to carry the workload and guaranteed down time. You know 5 days away then a guaranteed 3 days in the office, if you're lucky, that could be a weekend. Seriously, to make it work, we would have to bring in another team leader for the second team and someone who could be the senior psych. You would still head the Unit, and run with the senior first team, but you would have some of the admin shared…"

"Who had you in mind for heading the second team?" asked Hotch, keeping an open mind, but knowing that they were over stretched with all the requests they had even for the normal profiling.

"A few names have been considered…nothing has been firmly decided that this will happen…"

"Who?" persisted Hotch, wanting to get more of an idea how this was forming.

"Lindshaw at the New York office, Vellburg at Baltimore and Rolleston at the Miami office. We were also thinking of sending Reid off on an advanced psychologist's course to hone his skills on monitoring group dynamics, although he's been pretty good so far with what he picks up. Reid picked up on Elle Greenaway but she wouldn't let him help because she saw him as too young…He was right though, I had some very interesting conversations with Reid while he was at the Clinic, he's a very perceptive and talented psychologist. Of course, you might want to keep him on your team and let the second team have Gideon…"

Hotch kept a neutral face; he wondered just what was Max getting at here…Was he trying to remove Gideon's power base and was Reid getting caught in the middle of it all?

"I would get a choice?" Hotch asked carefully, not wanting to give a preference.

"Hotch you'll still be the Unit Chief, you would head the first team…nothing has been decided, we're just throwing ideas around to try and even out the work load. Besides, you have to consider that Gideon is coming up to retirement age…The sort of punishing work schedule your team has been experiencing is tiring for a younger man, so it's hardly going to be easy for one firmly in his 50s," Max said in a reasonable voice, and thought how defensive Hotch seemed at the thought of change.

Hotch was too tired to think through all the implications of these ideas. Max was correct, the BAU did need two established teams and not just the permanent one and a second cobbled together when the workload got critical. He hoped that this would come about but he was sceptical…

"I would like to see the money allocated before I got excited," said Hotch evenly, "I've had to run two teams on rare occasions, but the second team didn't work very well in the field despite the members getting on in the office."

"Yes, I've read your very good reports on those few times. You did choose the correct people on paper but fieldwork is different; some agents who work well in the office don't necessarily adapt to working in a team away from it. That's why I thought of bringing in another senior agent, new to the office, so he would start with a clean slate here. Reid would probably work quite well too because he would find it easier to watch the dynamics of new team, rather than the old one…unfortunately they still see him as a kid despite his abilities... They're going to have some adjustments to make when he does return."

"I think the team has already been re-assessing the contributions that Reid makes on a case and he has been greatly missed by all of us."

"Good, because if you're not careful you'll loose him. What he has been through has been a turning point for him; the first month will be crucial to his place on the team. The team may not like the Reid who returns because there will be a change in the group dynamics…and perhaps Reid will decide that he doesn't want to work with the team anymore," Max seriously said, carefully watching the man's reaction.

"Has he said that?"

"No, he wants to return, but he also knows that he has changed. The first month back is always difficult for anyone who has been suffering from post traumatic stress, as you know, but Morgan has been fortunate enough to have coped with his work experiences so far, likewise, Prentiss. Jareau is not a profiler, but she has now experienced post trauma and the team has been supportive of her. Reid is different, Agent Hotchner, he has been drugged against his will and tortured, much of which was recorded and some of it even posted on a web site! How do you think you would feel about that, you're a very private man yourself?"

"Embarrassed and exposed…"

"Yes, so Reid is not going to enjoy facing his team members who witnessed that vulnerability, which is why the first few weeks back will be crucial."

"I'm sure that Gideon will help all of us to adjust to the situation, he was very supportive of J.J." Hotch replied defensively, he was aware that all of them were concerned about the young agent.

"I sincerely hope so Hotch because it'll be very important. It's not every day that you have some one play Russian Roulette with your life while a prisoner, and it was not once, but several times during Reid's captivity." Max stated clearly. He hoped telling the Unit Chief plainly, what was needed, would prompt him to keep an eye on the team when Reid returned.

"He's been away over 3 months, do you have any indication as to when he might be coming back?" Hotchner persisted.

Max sighed, he took a deep breath reminding himself that this was a good man who was over worked and needed some rest.

"I will review his case in another month. In this severe case of trauma, I would like to give at least 4 months off work and even then you know that PTSD is likely to still be present, but there has to be a time when a person has to face the job again. Hotch you know, as well as I, that he will need support despite all the work we did at the Clinic," Max firmly stated.

"He'll get it…we supported Jareau, do you think we would just throw him into the thick of a case. We'll have him working alongside another agent." Hotch assured.

**Alexandria**

Spencer Reid walked at a steady pace towards the station but his mind was thinking about his relationship with Craig's sister, Jo. Craig and Melinda said nothing to the Petersen family about their relationship, because they felt that it was for Spencer and Jo to inform the family if things developed between them. Spencer and Jo tried to have lunch together during the week and Spencer would busy himself in Washington until the appointed time and place. Spencer had been enjoying the wonders of the Smithsonian, the National Archives and the second hand bookshops in Georgetown.

As he went along, his mind drifted away to memories that were significant for them both. The very first Sunday, they had spent together, was the first time in weeks that Spencer had experienced a panic attack near trees. He had thought nothing of going to eat a sandwich lunch with her in an attractive park near to the craft fair they had been visiting. After eating, they took a different path back which took them through a more wooded area. Spencer had been talking about his education in Las Vegas when he suddenly felt trapped, his heart beat soared and he felt bile rise up into his throat.

"Breathe deeply, and again…" the firm voice ordered, but this was not Max or Arthur.

"Breathe, can you walk a little more? There are some boulders, big enough to sit on, just a little way ahead…"

He had nodded and felt her hand and arm slip round his back to give support at waist level. It felt good to feel someone was there. The suddenness had been totally unexpected, he thought he had been doing so well with only the disturbed dreams being the real problem. They reached a few large and worn boulders, which children probably enjoyed climbing, and they rested while Spencer felt his world steady once more. Once he had sat down, she had removed her arm but sat close to observe her companion.

"Sorry…" he automatically began.

"You've no need to apologise to me. I've suffered from post traumatic stress so I knew from the moment we met that you were suffering, but we are survivors."

"Was it that obvious?"

"Spencer, besides the very obvious unhealthy appearance of you being far too thin and very pale, there were other give away signs…excessive nervousness if you like. The way you touch your hair, the twitching of your expressive fingers, the occasional scratching of your throat…I used to do that and I would unconsciously twist my curls round my finger. Then you just seem over anxious at sudden noises…but if you have your lute, you're totally different."

"Boy! You're very observant…I didn't think anyone had noticed how I'd jumped when Melinda dropped the saucepan lid."

"I'm an artist so I'm naturally observant... Melinda and Craig are both medical people, but we didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable…"

"Has Craig said anything about what happened to me?"

"No, that is for you to disclose if you choose. Craig can be trusted, he'd not say anything unless he thought me in danger," she replied evenly, capturing him with her black eyes.

"He doesn't know the details…" he began and Spencer found that he told her the whole story and the situation with his mother and his father leaving. It was strange for Spencer to be so open with someone he hardly knew, but it suddenly seemed important to him that he wanted her to know and to trust him.

Jo had listened without interruption, letting this man re-tell his recent traumatic experience to her, which was therapeutic for him. The time seated on those boulders represented a declaration of the trust and friendship he wanted between them. Over an hour passed before he brought his account to a close with meeting her at Craig's home. Jo reached out and touched his nearest hand, and smiled gently when he looked at her.

"I'll not tell anyone else, not even Craig," she softly assured, "You're on the mend Spencer. Hankel didn't break you and you've had some wonderful people helping you realise that you still have a life to live. We have to make some new memories to celebrate your survival."

Spencer stared at her, thinking about the words spoken just for him. 'We' she had said, and he looked at her bewitching eyes and wanted to believe that she would be part of his recovery.

He reached for her damaged hand and deliberately took it in his own, gently rubbing his thumb over the scarred palm area. It surprised her and she looked up at him, her large expressive eyes welling up with silent tears that trickled down her cheeks. Spencer deliberately didn't let go of the hand but gently wiped away the tears with the long fingers of his other hand. He had suspected that there was much more hurt than the openly physical memories of this injury.

"You don't find it repulsive?" she whispered, watching his face intently for the truth.

"No…I only see the beauty of a survivor," he softly replied and meant the words he spoke. "Come on, lets go back, perhaps we can find a place that has peppermint tea?"

"Not out here, Spencer!" she said, with a flash of a smile, as she slipped off her rocky perch, "You'll have to wait until we get back …I'm done here, are you?"

"Yeah, I've got a couple of cushions but there wasn't anything else," he replied, and he kept hold of her left hand all the way back to her car.

During the drive back she had played a Bach CD which included the double violin concerto. Spencer let the beautiful piece calm him to a doze in the passenger seat.

She took him back to her apartment, which surprised Spencer, and he was further taken aback by its compactness.

"You've a really big apartment…that living room of yours is a fantastic size," she told him, as he stood in her main room with a kitchen area at one end. The open plan living room and kitchen were just about three-quarters of the size of Spencer's living room. However, there was a shared love of books which covered most of the wall space except for a painting near a round mahogany dining table, with cream leather backed chairs that complimented the cream couch. Spencer went over to look at the painting, while Jo made peppermint tea for them both.

It was another JEM…something else they had in common, he mused. It was a landscape of a sunrise over a forest of treetops.

"It's called, 'Virginian Sunrise'," she told her visitor, as she brought him his tea and there was a plate of home-made cookies, " Do you like it?"

"Yes…the odd mix of colours…those purples and mauves so unusual with the yellows of the dawn forcing their way through…I guess it's the effect of the morning mist…Do you know what time of year…I mean the trees could be evergreens?" Spencer let his thoughts run freely.

Jo laughed, "You expect me to know when it was painted?"

"I thought you might know the artist…I'm sorry, perhaps I mis-interpreted a deeper understanding of my 'Northern Lights'…I thought because you're in the artistic world that…." he began to fall deeper into the hole he was digging for himself.

"I understand that JEM is very private, you should just enjoy the effect of the work on your senses," she replied softly. But again Spencer felt there was something hidden here. Jo was right, Greg had told him that the artist was one who avoided the limelight.

"Come and sit down," Jo invited, going over to her cream couch, "I can no longer play my cello, but I do have a good selection of early music if you want to choose something."

Spencer put his tea down on the marble coffee table and began to scan the music shelves. There was a lot of unaccompanied early church music, Byrd, Tallis and Hildegarde but not Gregorian chant he mused. There was Dowland, a large selection of Bach, father and sons, Mozart and Schubert. No Beethoven or any Russian composers but Nielsen, Grieg and Benjamin Britten. It was an unusual mix of tastes that then suddenly leapt to the Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Who, early Joni Mitchell, Simon and Garfunkel and Madeleine Peyroux. He reached for Schubert piano pieces and put the disc on to play.

"I intrigue you with my music collection?" Jo said lightly, with a teasing voice.

"It's different…some interesting gaps…"

"Please don't tell me what it all means to you…"she said, taking another sip of her tea, "You've told me about what happened to you, would you like to hear my life changing story, it seems only fair to reciprocate?"

Spencer sat next to her, giving this woman his complete attention. Jo was confronted by the gentle eyes that seemed terribly large in the emaciated face that had disturbingly prominent cheekbones. Jo instinctively wanted to feed him up and knew that would also be the response of her mother if she got to meet him.

"New York doesn't have good memories for my family," Jo began softly, "My brother, Daniel, and my only cousin, Lawrence, worked for the same law firm, their offices were in the North Tower; they never found their bodies." Jo fell silent for a few moments, as the surge of the memories of 911 broke through her carefully constructed emotional barriers.

"I studied for my art degree in New York and shared an apartment with a fellow student, Sandrine. I paid for my own degree with money I had earned while still at school because I've always loved interior design and I used to get paid for my suggestions by my Aunt Marilyn. Uncle Jeff thought I could always put it down on my CV that I had already some interior design experience. I worked for them at Fairfax Estates during my vacations so I was not the typical penniless art student. Sandrine and I had just graduated and I was going to stay on to complete a further diploma in design, while Sandrine had got herself a job at a local gallery where she met Gordon. I didn't think it would last long, Sandrine was a bit of a butterfly when it came to relationships. I was the stable one, despite being two years younger, and had been going out with Luke for nearly a year.

Anyway, I'd broken my right arm, a couple of days before, falling from a horse, so I wasn't feeling at my best and decided to go home early after seeing a movie with Luke. Luke dropped me off and said he was going to play 'pool' with some of his friends. I lived in the first floor apartment and I could see the lights were on, so I knew Sandrine was in…I went in and shrugged my coat off my shoulders and then I saw Gordon coming out of Sandrine's room, carrying a large kitchen knife and bloodied. I tried to get to the door but he beat me to it, but I wasn't going to just let him knife me. I lashed out with my 'plastered ' arm, hitting him across the face and reached for the knife…I bit, I hit, scratched…it's all quite a blur, but I didn't have the voice to scream in all of this. I managed to grab a heavy lamp and hit him across his face, so he staggered away with the force, which allowed me time to get out of the door and onto the front steps of the apartment building. I was screaming and partly fell down the steps, the cast on my arm hindering my balance. But no one came to help…It was only nine at night, a clear night, in a quiet neighbourhood…I looked back up the steps and he was still coming after me…I stepped into the road and got hit by a car…which fortunately was already slowing down. The two guys wrestled Gordon to the ground, while their companion called for the police.

Three days later, I woke up in hospital and found out that the two guys, who stopped to help, were off duty firemen. The woman with them had tried to keep me talking but apparently I passed out, mostly due to the loss of blood and I'd hit my head in the fall. I hurt a lot when I came round…during the fight I'd not registered the cuts I'd received; I was running on pure adrenaline. In the hospital, I had both hands and arms out of action and my whole body hurt, but most of all, I remembered opening my eyes to see my Dad's face…I knew it was bad, he'd been crying and I'd only ever seen him cry over Daniel.

I had lots of visitors, but I sensed Luke distancing himself from me. He seemed to always have an excuse to be somewhere else so I guess I shouldn't have been so surprised by his reaction when he saw my left hand and arm, once the bandages came off. The doctor had been very honest with me and said that I had severe nerve and tendon damage. He added it was fortunate that I was right handed because I would still be able to paint and do all the normal things with my dominant hand. My thought was that I could no longer play my cello. Craig and Melinda were wonderful and came to see me everyday and tried to be positive, but Luke couldn't cope…When I went to stay with Craig and Melinda, he seemed reluctant to visit. I gather Craig went to see him at his office and that shamed him into coming, but he couldn't bare to look at my hand…Melinda saw this and deliberately held it and told him to touch it…'it wouldn't bite'.

What I saw that afternoon was a look of revulsion in his eyes, he'd been shamed into coming and cornered into touching the physical evidence of my attack. I watched him steel himself to barely touch my hand, and at the merest touch, he dropped my hand as if it was red hot. Ironic really because it feels cold…but he almost jumped back with the horror of it all. He blurted out that it was awful… I was no longer perfect…he couldn't bear to touch me ever again or be touched by me. Melinda was more upset than I was, I think I knew it was coming but you don't want to admit it to yourself.

It wasn't so easy, of course. I came home to Virginia because I couldn't face living in New York any more. I didn't loose weight like you, Spencer, I spent the next two years hiding away at my parent's home and comfort eating and put on 42 pounds. I was fortunate to have a family who could pay for the best and I had some good counselling over the next 3 years. It still took me 2 years before I would go with Aunt Marilyn to see clients, but I was earning money from my work. When I first came home, Uncle Jeff would come with films of apartments that they were renovating and talked with me to get my ideas. But I've come through the PTSD, the depression, and finally had the confidence to move to this apartment on my own last summer. So here I am, 4 years on, back to my normal weight, finally able to meet clients on my own, live on my own and even trust a man to come back to my castle. Well, OK…my three rooms, which would easily fit into your apartment…I envy your bath!" she tried to sound upbeat, but Spencer could comprehend some of the journey she had taken.

Spencer reached for the left hand and examined the scars, deeply defined in places and disappearing into the cuff off her long sleeved blouse. He pushed the cuff up to see the badly scarred wrist and indications that the scarring went further up the arm. She would have lost a lot of blood.

"You're a very brave woman and Luke was a fool. You're a sensitive and warm person. Did they convict Gordon?" he asked, looking her in the eye.

"The trial was brought to a sudden end because he got stabbed in a prison fight while in Rikers. The Prosecution told us that he had a temper and didn't like to be rejected by women. He actually came from quite a wealthy family, but the parents had divorced when he was young, and he'd been passed between various family members as neither parent wanted him when they remarried," she said, but then fell silent with the impact of the memories.

Spencer squeezed the hand and brought her back to attention, he smiled at her and then leaned over and kissed her gently on the cheek. She was so shocked, her eyes went large with surprise, but it was such a gentle fleeting action and she couldn't stop the blush that appeared. The music had long stopped, and he still held her hand, for Jo the world was beginning to fill with a myriad of fresh emotions again.

Spencer turned into the entrance of the station and stood to one side observing the exit and a part of his mind continued to recall significant events of their friendship. Jo still didn't like New York, especially at night, and told him that she could still suffer panic attacks by being in that city. However, they had been to a couple of New York exhibitions on previous Saturdays. Spencer was careful to have them on the plane returning home by nightfall because he didn't wish to cause her unnecessary distress.

One week after their first meeting, Jo had suddenly said, "Would you like to see my greatest secret…one I trust you to keep."

Spencer had just got back his car and wanted to take it for a run. She navigated him to a large house on the outskirts of a quiet community, 50 miles north of Richmond. Jo instructed him to park within the grounds and was surprised when she didn't go to the imposing front door, but produced a key that opened a side gate and Spencer found himself going through the back door and into a spacious and well-equipped kitchen. A black labrador came up to them, wagging his tail.

"Hello Nero, great guard dog you are," she said, as the animal rolled over waiting for a belly rub.

"This is your parent's home?"

"Of course, I couldn't get all my things in my tiny apartment. When I came back here from New York, I took over a suite of rooms which are really quite self contained within the main house. This way…"

Jo lead the way to an unimposing back staircase, just off the kitchen. They went up to the third floor and Spencer immediately recognised Jo's colour schemes and choice of furnishings. It was like a self-contained apartment with its own kitchen, bathroom, bedroom and large living room. Off the living room, there was another door that lead into a study. They entered the study and she came to a halt at a darkly stained door between a bank of six tall dark oak bookcases.

She turned to Spencer and seemed to be weighing up the decision she was about to make.

"You already know don't you?" she asked in a whisper.

"What do you think I know?" Spencer teased.

"Who works in this room," she replied enigmatically, as she chose the key on the key ring. She turned the key in the lock and opened the door, it was dark and as Spencer's eyes began to adjust he could see, from where he stood, that the room deliberately had 'blackout' blinds. He heard her reach out and flick the light switch …

"Joanna Elizabeth Mary Petersen paints in this room," she said in a far away voice, as she walked away from him to go over to her easel.

Spencer stood on the threshold, it had crossed his mind, but she seemed so reluctant to take up the bait he had cast concerning JEM. He had thought that perhaps JEM was a friend or other relation.

"You don't want to be known?"

"No, this is a very private part of me. There was a time after the attack that I couldn't seem to finish anything I started, or I was not satisfied with what I painted. Eventually, as I came out of the depression, I began to see with new eyes; the world took on a fresh meaning for me."

"You had survived and saw it differently…"

"Yes, just as you are beginning to see your world with new eyes. You'll also see your colleagues differently when you return to the BAU."

"I'm not sure I want to return…"

"Why not?"

"I want this relationship to continue…I've never been this close to a person before; the job is very demanding, it might put too much stress on what we have…"

"We won't know until you return to Quantico will we, but I'm willing to try and make it work."

Reid felt a warmth rush through his body as he saw her coming out of the exit. It had only been 4 hours since they had parted after their two hour lunch, which today had taken in a lunchtime piano recital. Their relationship was only 3 weeks old, but felt strangely timeless because of the trust they intuitively shared from the very first days.

Jo returned his grin of happiness, as she made her way to him. He automatically took hold of her left hand. Her hand my have repulsed Luke, but to Spencer it was part of this special woman and he had told her it represented her strengths not weakness. It did feel colder than her right hand, but it was a difference that did not disturb him.

He liked to meet her off the evening train and they would walk, or drive if it was raining, upward to his apartment usually. This was because it was larger and he was teaching her to play Go and it contained his lute. Sometimes, they would prepare a meal together or eat the leftovers of a previous one; music and Go seemed to be part of their evenings if they were not going out. The relationship had slipped so quickly to a deeper level, that it was both scary and exhilarating at the same time, for the pair of them. They were bound by the experience of traumatic incidents that had changed their lives. They had both faced possible death alone at the hands of an unstable person and miraculously survived. This couple had told each other the truth of their lives. Spencer found he was not secretive over his mother's illness and Jo had listened with understanding and made perceptive remarks about his childhood, which in turn, only gave him the encouragement to tell her more. Trust was intricately woven into this friendship and for both Jo and Spencer, that trust gave the pair of them a new sense of being alive.

Part of Spencer wanted to tell Arthur and Don, but then he thought that he still wanted to keep Jo untouched from their possible scrutiny a little longer. When he was alone, sometimes he wondered what it would be like to go back to the BAU and all that the work entailed. It was then that his inner self would question if this relationship would survive the strains of the work. He hoped it would; life had taken a different direction and meaning now there was Jo. Spencer had been gathered into her family and quickly accepted because he was Craig's friend and obviously made Jo happy.

Craig did tell Spencer, one day they were alone, that he was pleased that they had finally met because Jo had come alive again and he believed that they were good for each other.

Alan and Margaret Petersen had accepted Spencer from the moment they had met him. Alan admitted to his wife that he knew this was special by the way Spencer held Jo's left hand so naturally and the quiet happiness that seemed to surround them. Spencer enjoyed the fuss Margaret made of him; she was always trying to increase his waist measurement. Alan insisted that Spencer was to call him by his first name, his title of Judge was for legal business only. Dr. Spencer Reid found that he was brought into the world of a stable family unit, which also included Marilyn and Jeff Bevan. It was a stability that he had always longed for in a normal family and he treasured his time with these people. It reminded him of the feelings he experienced with the Bishops' and he longed to take Jo to meet them. Spencer hoped to take her on a trip the Nevada but Jo said that she soon would be away for a month with a trip to Europe, which included a friend's wedding, and she couldn't take any more vacation time for the rest of the year. The young man easily let go of the disappointment and began to plan the places they could go next year.

As the days passed by, Spencer became more confident about his future and he began to sleep better…although he was sure that was helped by having Jo sharing his bed. He still experienced vivid dreams, but he was now not alone when he woke from them and there was always her understanding presence.

After Spencer had been at home for 2 months, he travelled with Max to New York to sign the contract for his book. The young man had told Max about Jo on the journey back. Max had listened attentively and seemed pleased that he had met someone who came from a stable and understanding family.

"I'll not make a formal note of this conversation," Max assured Spencer, "You're entitled to your privacy so I'll not mention it to anyone else either…it's up to you to tell people about this side of your life. Just remember, that if you start living together then you have to inform Hotch and fill out the necessary forms. There shouldn't be any problems…not with that background." Max fell silent, deciding not to tell the happy young man beside him that he knew Judge Petersen and they had discussed the young genius soon after Jo had taken him home.

The next week, Spencer was called into Quantico for a meeting, which included Max, Erin Strauss and two other divisional heads, for a talk about his future training. It was explained to Reid that while he had been on sick leave that there had been an overhaul of training and career review procedures. Now two other senior divisional heads, as well as his own, and a senior psychologist were to consider each agent's progress and their future career options.

Reid sat listening to all of this and felt that it sounded a better system, especially as Strauss began to talk about more oversight from other divisions to prevent a department slipping into sloppy procedures. Reid had looked at Max, at those words, and knew that some of the things he had revealed in the Clinic had been acted upon. Spencer hoped that the changes would benefit a lot of agents, not just himself.

"Dr. Pentall has brought to our attention your psychology expertise and the numerous times that other psychologists, who have conducted your psych evaluations, have noted that you show potential for psych evaluation training yourself. We do have in-house training here, under Dr. Truelove, and we would like you to spend the next 10 days under his supervision in the Mental Health Services Department…" said Strauss, watching the agent's eyes widen in surprise at the suggestion, "We hope you'll agree Agent Reid."

"Y…Yes, I was not expecting such a placement," he confessed. Max must have had some idea about this, but had not said anything to him on their New York trip.

"Agent Reid, I regret to say, and we are all in agreement here, that we have not been watching your career closely enough. The Bureau has not been adequately training you in a systematic manner. These annual career reviews, we hope, will keep a better track of all our agents," she smiled, but Reid instinctively never felt at ease with Erin Strauss, "It's obvious to all, in this room, that your psychology qualifications should be put to a wider use. Psychologists with field experience are extremely useful because their insights into the strains and stresses of the work are far better than any book learning. We also plan to send you on an advanced psychologist's group dynamics course… just to hone your skills, but we don't have a place for you yet, hopefully this will happen towards the end of next month. I hope you're happy with these plans?"

"Yes, it would seem the natural direction for me to go at the moment," Reid replied, realising that this was the way that the Bureau trained those for senior psych positions in profiling. He wondered if they were grooming him to take over from Gideon when he retired. Reid realised that Gideon might be offered early retirement from next year. Although nothing had ever been discussed within the team, they had all presumed that Gideon would be given an extension and he would have a few more years at the BAU.

"Good, then you're to go immediately to see Dr. Truelove who'll explain what you'll be doing for him," said Strauss, in her brusque manner, and then smiled at him, "Welcome back, Agent Reid."

Agent Spencer Reid walked out of the interview room, that had been booked for them in the Human Resources Department, well away from the complex that housed the BAU. Reid instinctively knew he wasn't to go anywhere near his home base; the team was probably not around anyway….

Over a week later, Hotch managed to find a few spare minutes, between cases, to read some of the backlog of paperwork that was mounting on his desk. He picked up the envelope that came from the Human Resources Department…or Personnel as he still thought of it. He wondered who was being sent on a course now. The new career tracking procedures had some merit, but it could play havoc to a department when key people disappeared for a week or so. He pulled out the form, with it was a hand written note from Strauss, 'Agent Reid is getting extra psych training, the feedback from Dr. Truelove is very promising.' He read the forms outlying the future plans for Reid's training, outside the department, for the rest of the year. The Bureau was obviously preparing him for senior psych work, but Reid might choose to leave them and join the Mental Health Team. He was reminded of Max's warning, that they would have to be careful if they wanted to keep Reid. Hotch sat back and wondered if he'd tell Gideon or keep this to himself, it was afterall, 'private and confidential' for the Unit Chief only. Hotch was not happy with Gideon's attitude towards the team at the moment…He couldn't quite pinpoint what was wrong; Gideon was working hard on the cases, but he seemed to be at times distant from the team. Perhaps, they were all just tired but at least it looked like Reid would be back with them soon.

As Hotch filed away the document, he wondered what Max had meant when he had warned him that Reid had changed; just who was going to return to the BAU…

End of Chapter 15


	16. Chapter 16

The In – Between Times: Chapter 16 

**by Helena Fallon**

This chapter will make reference to the episode, "Fear and Loathing", but please remember this is my interpretation of events in relation to the story I am writing and my imagination has been busy.

Dr. Arnold Truelove, or Arnie to the Mental Health team and anyone else who came into his circle, had the reputation of being an excellent teacher. The training he provided for the FBI psychologists was well respected, even outside that organisation. He had been appointed to head the training side by Max Pentall, who had brought him to Quantico from the wilds of North Dakota; Max Pentall didn't believe talent should be left in a backwater. Arnie had been in Virginia for nearly three years now and he thoroughly enjoyed his work, taking the talent sent to him from all over the country to receive his training. The training was not just the actual techniques to get agents to relax enough to be honest, but also the way the evaluating psychologist had to record their sessions and recommendations for the assessed agents. It was a very responsible position and an agent's career, and other peoples' lives, depended on getting the psych evaluations done properly.

Arnie had heard a lot about the BAU's genius and remembered a few brief conversations with him over the past few years. He was delighted when Max had informed him of the Bureau's plans for Reid's future training. It was soon obvious to Arnie that the young man was a natural psychologist; the quiet, unassuming type who observed a great deal and whose manner lead others to underestimate his abilities. Dr.Truelove knew about his recent sick leave but he seemed to be coping with the work he gave him so well that after the tutorials, of watching recorded psych evaluation sessions and discussing the merits and pitfalls of them, Arnie felt he wanted to begin the next step; practice sessions. Other members of the Mental Health team would take the role of the agent and Reid was to conduct the session. Afterwards, they all came together to discuss how it went. By the end of the first week, the training team were all in agreement that Reid should be interviewing real agents the next week. The sessions would be filmed and discussed afterwards, along with the reports Reid had to write after each session.

Spencer had gone home, that first Friday evening, feeling pleased with how everything had been going with his in-house training. Jo was delighted that he was so upbeat about it all because it had been initially a surprise move by the Bureau.

"So you actually interview active agents on Monday?" Jo asked, feeling a sense of accomplishment for him and he looked so pleased with himself.

"Yeah, I mean they'll probably be pretty routine to begin with, but I didn't think I'd get this far so quickly," Spencer replied, but his voice sounded excited about the new challenge and his big brown eyes shone with the anticipation of the task ahead.

"So you like the people you're working with?" asked Jo, coming to sit with him on his big couch.

"Yes, I like Arnie, Dr. Truelove, he's very easy to get along with and the rest of the training team have been friendly aswell. It's been good to have some specific training outside the BAU, you know, it helps you keep a perspective on things…The horrors we deal with on the team can give you a very jaundiced view of life if you're not careful."

"Well, I'm part of your life now and we have a few days to enjoy before I go on vacation but I will soon be back and the time will go quickly, especially if you're kept busy with work!"

"Oh…got plans have you?" he asked, and sipped his peppermint tea, but his stomach was responding to the cooking smells coming from the kitchen.

"That your stomach rumbling? I thought you said you had a working lunch with Arnie."

"I did, but I want what you're cooking…"

"To think I used to worry that you didn't eat…you just burn it off with all that nervous energy you have…Wish I could eat like you…" she grumbled half heartedly, eyeing his slender frame. Spencer still looked very thin but he had put on some weight after Jo and her Mum had joined the efforts of Melinda to feed him up.

Spencer grinned boyishly at her, "So what plans do you have for us this weekend?"

"Dad rang, he's booked time at the range with Uncle Jeff to do some clay pigeon shooting and you're invited to join them, along with Craig…"

"Ah… a return grudge match eh?" replied Spencer with glee.

Jo looked at him nursing his mug of tea; he was obviously contemplating the challenge. She shook her head, none of the four men would ever shoot a real bird but they seemed to enjoy the challenge of destroying a flying clay target. Her father had suggested that Spencer might like to join the 'menfolk' a couple of Saturdays ago. It was something Spencer had never tried before, but he went along and thoroughly enjoyed himself. Uncle Jeff had come back quite in awe of the terribly thin young man and revealed that Spencer had given them a lecture on the physics involved in calculating the shot. Her father had refused to be intimidated by the genius, and told Spencer that all he had to do was to shout "Pull and shoot the damn clay!" Craig had just laughed and said that Spencer was a fine shot. Once Spencer had got home, he admitted to Jo that it was strange to hear a shot fired and he was pleased that he coped with it all.

Alan Petersen had deliberately invited Spencer along; he had served in the Medical Corps when drafted for the Vietnam War. He could have delayed the draft by studying or done time in the National Guard, but he was not a military man and actually didn't agree with the conflict, but the 18 year old said he'd serve his fellow man. It taught him many things that no book could teach; he had seen PTSD in a field hospital and he consequently understood the man Jo had brought home. Spencer and Alan had sat in his study talking and Spencer had been honest about the trauma he had faced. During his time at the Clinic, Max and Arthur had brought in a gun so he could learn to cope with seeing, touching and above all, hearing the click of a trigger. Alan thought clay pigeon shooting would help to get over any residual fear and, as he and Craig would be with him, there was nothing to worry about if he had a flashback. It had been a wonderful time and Jeff had joined them later and they paired off for a little contest…the youngsters won!

"So what are you going to do while we're out of the way?"

"Bake! There is a 'homemade' day at the hospital to raise funds…you know, where we take over the cafeteria for the day and all proceeds go to the scanner fund. We can't really do that if you men are under our feet. Melinda is taking the children to a party in the afternoon, but we have all been baking extras and putting them away ready for next Friday. Of course I won't be there to help this year, but Melinda has organised an army of helpers for the day and the medical students are helping to run the crèche and activities for the pre-schoolers!"

"Oh...hope we get some of the goodies…you know, to try out?" the brown eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Since when did my Mom let you go without?" Jo replied, "I'd better go and see if the lentil and pasta bake is ready…"

Jo's last weekend in Virginia, for a few weeks, was very happy and she hoped that Spencer would continue to keep contact with her family while she was on vacation. She was due to leave on the Wednesday for London, where she would travel on to a small town in Essex, called Epping, to stay with friends. Katie was getting married on the following Saturday and Jo was to be one of the bridesmaids. The next Monday, she would take the Eurostar train to Paris for a week before travelling on to Italy. Jo's paternal grandmother had come from Florence and they still had contact with distant relatives there. It seemed an ideal time to visit them and also to slip away to Milan aswell. She had been totally open with Spencer about this vacation, which had been arranged over 6 months before they had met, but she sensed Spencer go very quiet in the last few days before she left.

On the Monday night, she decided to tackle the problem in a more forthright way. Spencer had come home to his apartment to find Jo cooking their evening meal.

"Hi…good day?" she called, as she heard him close the door.

Spencer stood in the kitchen doorway and looked at the fruits of her baking. The counter tops were full of individual meal trays, which were labelled with their contents on the lids, all ready for the freezer.

"Have you been to work today?" he asked mildly, but he was secretly pleased with her thoughtfulness for his welfare while she was away.

" Yes, and I worked through my lunch hour so I could come home early to bake a few things for you…I don't want you to forget me while I'm in Europe," she replied, grinning at him, before turning away to check the dish cooking in the oven.

"You think I could forget you?"

She shrugged, "I hope you won't but you know the old adage, 'the way to a man's heart…'I thought I wouldn't leave it to chance just in case you met some ravishing beauty working in the local take away."

Spencer laughed, "If one actually existed, I wouldn't be interested," he confessed, and went over to her to give her a hug. "I'm going to miss you but I'm sure that it will do us both good to have time away from each other…You know these last couple of months have been very intense, and rather artificial, because I've been on sick leave. I'll soon be back to the BAU regime which will really be the challenge because the work schedule is demanding at times."

"I know, you've warned me, but I just wish you could come with me…another time I'll take you to my favourite places in Europe to make you forget about your work," she said softly, slipping her hands inside his jacket to wrap her arms round his back. Jo thought how thin he still seemed, definitely below the lower end of the Body Mass Index, despite all the Petersen women trying to feed him up at every opportunity.

"You think you're ready for the BAU again?" she asked, searching his face.

"I can't put it off…I'm enjoying this training I'm getting but once it's over I'll be back at my desk, although I don't know if I'll be back in the field," he honestly replied.

"Well, I hope you don't get sent into the field until I get back…."

Spencer squeezed her warm body to him, he couldn't reply because he didn't want to sound a coward, he hoped he would be able to cope with the team after so much had happened in the time away.

Three days later, Spencer returned to an empty apartment and the reality of the part Jo played in his life. He was enjoying working with the Mental Health team and the psych evaluations they gave him. There was no one from the BAU or other units under Erin Strauss, but he had some interesting sessions and varied agents to assess.

Arnie kept him for three extra days, the next week, because he was helping them also assess the Washington Office. It was a satisfying experience for Spencer, and he enjoyed travelling with the Mental Health team each day to Washington. Those three days gave Spencer another possible place to go and on the Wednesday afternoon, when all the extra evaluations had been written up, he went to see Arnie to say goodbye.

"Spencer, you know I've got to return you to the BAU because they want you back, but I've put you on our list for helping out here. You do have to spend a few hours a year on evaluations to keep on that list and I don't want that to lapse. Seriously, if you find that you want a change to the BAU work, we would favourably look upon a request to transfer over here." Dr. Truelove said sincerely.

"Thanks, I'll bear that in mind, but for now I've got to see if I can still pull my weight inside the BAU…but who knows what will happen in the future," the young agent replied.

Arnie's kind face smiled at him and then suddenly became serious; Spencer was immediately alert for whatever was to come next.

"I feel I should say this, because it has troubled me, but I don't want to alarm you or spoil your return to your unit," Arnie said quietly, "But when we told the BAU that we were keeping you for a further 3 days, so we could complete the Washington evaluations, it caused quite an unexpected reaction…" The older man watched the young psychologist before him. Reid's face, that a few minutes ago had been openly happy, now began to look puzzled but alert at the same time.

"Would you like to clarify that," the young man invited.

Arnie sat back, he had started so he had to go on, "Gideon came down to see me, he seemed surprised that you were doing psych evaluations already. I told him that my colleagues and I had every confidence in your abilities and wouldn't have put you in that position had we not thought you more than capable…"

Spencer listened carefully; he remembered his talks with Max in the Clinic and how Max had been critical of his training, or rather, the lack of it.

"How did he take that?" Spencer asked as neutrally as he could, but his heart seemed to be beating faster at the thought of his mentor disapproving of the valuable time, Spencer felt, he had spent under Arnie.

"Spencer, I know you were brought here as Gideon's protégé, but eventually the student has to stand on his own two feet and show that he has grown up enough to do that. I think Gideon is annoyed that he did not have any part in your recovery at the Clinic. However, I think Max…and the whole of the Mental Health team is in agreement with this…was correct to keep him away because you needed space, totally away from the team, to explore very deep issues that had been awakened by the trauma you'd experienced."

Spencer nodded, but he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Gideon was not the psychologist he had been when Spencer had first arrived at the FBI; he felt his old mentor was slipping when it came to the team. Perhaps it was just the natural ageing process and it would eventually happen to him.

"Spencer, I feel I must say this, but I only say it because I don't want the FBI to loose your talents…Be careful. I don't think Gideon dealt with Agent Greenaway in an adequate manner when she returned to the team…I know her personality was forceful, but for a woman to cope with Sex Crimes and then BAU work you would need to be strong…"

"He failed her," Spencer interrupted, and the two men looked at each other sharing the unspoken trust they had built up over the last few weeks.

"I think she could have been monitored better on her return. The BAU is notoriously over worked at times and it has been very busy recently. I think everyone is tired and they may not support you in the way, you know, you should be…I just want you to know that this is my private cell number should you ever feel the need to talk." Arnie handed him a small white business card with his private number written on the back. Spencer reflected that this was the fourth private number he had from a member of the Mental Health team.

"You don't think I'll get the support I need?" he probed.

"I don't know, I hope you will …but you know the pressures of that team. Once you're on a case, you all seem to get tunnel vision and Spencer… you do tend to be quiet…It worries me that Elle, the extrovert, got overlooked when she needed help. I just hope that the team don't overlook you in the middle of a case. It's just between us Spencer, I don't want you to feel alone once you're back in the BAU."

Spencer placed the card inside his wallet, "Thank you for kindness, I hope I won't have to use it,"

The next day, Spencer had returned to the BAU. The team was away on a case in Michigan and he had slipped back into answering requests for profiles from around the country. It was a Thursday and Jo had been away a week already, he had not slept well since and he didn't feel like eating the delicious looking food she had left him. Garcia had bounced out to see him as soon as she realised he was back. However, Spencer had also noticed the look she gave him, just like every one else in the unit office, it was one of disbelief at his appearance.

Garcia had given him a hug in an outward show of her affection, but she was horrified at the too skinny man she felt. He had changed; she kept telling herself that she would like the old Reid back, the one with the boyish grin and warm sensitive smile. However, before her was the shadow of that man, and looking much older, and with his personal barriers tightly in place, even with her.

When J.J. had called in for information, she had told her that Reid was back but J.J. instantly picked up that she was forcing the jollity in her voice.

"Is he all right?" J.J. asked softly, although she was on her own at the time.

"Well he must be, he's back…but you'll see for yourself soon…" and the call ended when a Detective needed the agent's help.

On Friday afternoon, the team walked back into the office and for the first time Reid realised just how noisy they were. Reid had just passed on some processed requests ready to be sent by the clerical assistants.

"Reid!" Morgan bellowed from the doorway, throwing down his bag, "Hey man it's good to see you…" but then his smile faltered a little as the full impact of Reid's appearance struck him. J. J. just stood staring at his side and Prentiss had quietly come to a halt beside J.J. Their smiles could not disguise the look in their eyes.

Spencer gave them a wary smile, nothing like the openness of the old days. The three agents were shocked by the stranger before them…Garcia had warned them in a phone call the previous night, while they were in Morgan's hotel room, but the reality was something that they would now have to get use to.

"Hi guys!" Reid said softly, and began to walk towards them. He spent the next hour listening to them wind down over the Michigan case, but he said very little. Reid had always been the introvert, but he seemed even more so. Hotch then arrived and asked Reid to come and talk with him in his office.

Spencer followed the Unit Chief up the steps and into his office, closing the door behind him.

"It's good to have you back. I understand that Dr. Truelove was very impressed with you and Erin Strauss was surprised that they kept you to help with the Washington evaluations. They haven't informed me yet when you'll be getting the advanced group dynamics training…Have you been enjoying yourself?"

"Yes, it was good to get some training outside the unit and it's given me another string to my bow," Reid said evenly. He watched Hotch tense a little at his words.

" Reid, your talents should be encouraged. I don't expect you to hit the ground running, coming back after 5 months away, but we've missed your contributions to the team," Hotch replied honestly, but saw that Reid didn't give the smile he'd been anticipating on being praised. Hotch looked into the brown eyes of a man who had been to another world and the experience had left its mark on him. The naïve Reid was gone…but then had he ever existed because this agent had always kept his personal side private. Hotch felt as if the rug had been pulled from under him, this was like seeing a new agent and Hotch wondered if he could reach him.

"We all have the weekend off but I'm afraid, now you're back, we do need you with the team. We've been very over worked recently and we couldn't find a satisfactory replacement. I'll try my best to ease you into things, but I hope you'll soon feel comfortable with us again…I know when I got hurt on the job in Seattle, I was off work for 4 months, and the first month back was strange. You know, I'd wanted to get back but then I had to get use to how tiring everything was and the work schedule…"

Spencer nodded thoughtfully, "Its strange being back after so long, but I'll just have to face each day as it comes. Barry did check my profiles yesterday, but he said I was fine so to work normally today."

"Good, I'm sure, after the psych evaluations you're been doing, that you quickly slipped backed into that routine. Lets hope we have a few quiet office days…the team could do with it. Do you have any plans for the weekend?" Hotch was pleased that Reid was aware that there would be a period of adjustment, this was far better than the attitude Elle had expressed on her return.

"Yes, at least being on sick leave gave me the chance to follow up interests and see old and new friends. I've several people to see over the weekend. I've changed my contact for if I'm hurt; a friend from the Dowland Society, Dr. Craig Petersen, he's a surgeon with the Burn's Unit at the Memorial Hospital. I'm going to see him and his wife tomorrow for lunch."

"That's fine, it's good that you have established friendships outside the Unit…it does lead to a more balanced life," replied Hotch, genuinely pleased that something positive had come out of his time on sick leave. "Well if that's all, have a good weekend…."

Spencer had left quietly but he noticed that Gideon made no attempt to call him into his office. However, the senior agent did go to see Hotch after Spencer had gone back to his desk. Reid lingered tidying things away, but as Hotch's door remained firmly shut, he decided that he would go home as Hotch had dismissed him. Gideon had initially given him a very curt, "good to see you back," but it lacked any warmth and Spencer felt an icy wall between them that he'd never felt before. But at that moment, Hotch had summoned Spencer to join him in his office; at least Hotch was acting like the Unit Chief and trying to re-assure him about his return to the team.

That evening, agents Jareau and Morgan sat in a Washington bar, with Garcia, trying to come to terms with what 5 months away had done to the youngest member of the team.

"He looks so thin and pale…" J.J. said, staring into the beer she really didn't feel like drinking.

"He was always thin…but he's underweight now, I'm sure…" Garcia said, sipping her diet coke and without any of her usual bouncy banter.

"He's lost that sparkle…you know, his eyes looked so wary…" said J.J., "Did I look like that when I came back?"

"No, not like that," Morgan replied, taking a thoughtful sip of his beer. He was worried because Reid wasn't the easiest person to open up and he didn't want him to clam up now. Morgan didn't want to fail him…he remembered how Reid had been upset about Elle's departure. Morgan had sensed that Reid had not believed Elle's story over the shooting…Then there was Gideon, Morgan didn't know how to read him at all, but his whole manner was distant towards Reid and even Prentiss had noticed that...

"You did ask him to come with us, didn't you?" Penelope asked. Morgan was aware at how disturbed she was over Reid because even he couldn't raise any banter from her.

"'Course I did, Baby Doll…He said he had other plans for the evening…"

Hotch sat in his study at home, he was just sitting staring at his desk when Hayley came in.

"Hey…you all right? You've been quiet all evening,"

"I saw Reid today for the first time since Georgia," he said, and his voice echoed the shock he was still feeling.

Hayley came round to perch on the arm of the chair, and put her arm around him, in the hope that it offered some comfort, "How is he?"

"Well, he's been with the Mental Health team receiving psych evaluation training for the past 13 working days…He must have been good because they kept him to help with the Washington evaluations."

"That's not what I asked," Hayley quietly said.

"You're been living with me too long," Hotch replied ruefully, "He looks very pale, very thin…almost anorexic and …he's so different, the youthfulness that was once Reid has gone…" he tried to capture what he felt in words and knew he was failing miserably.

"Aaron…he's been to hell and back, you can't expect him to be the same…" replied Hayley, but she knew the fate of Spencer Reid weighed heavily on her husband's conscience.

"Yeah, I know, I guess we all wanted to see something of the old Reid and what we saw this afternoon was a stranger. I didn't like how Gideon behaved…he seemed so distant with him…" Hotch confessed.

"Why?"

"I tried to get Gideon to tell me and he just waffled on that he thought the Mental Health team were trying to poach him after all the training he'd received as a profiler. I don't know, Hayley, but I don't sense any trust between Gideon and Reid anymore. Perhaps Reid has just grown up and we've all got to accept that. Max Pentall did warn me that he'd changed…Let's go to bed…at least we've been guaranteed this weekend off…" Hotch said wearily, but he hoped the team would come together again soon.

Jason Gideon sat quietly in his high-backed reading chair, nursing a glass of burgundy. His thoughts drifted back to the afternoon and the image of Reid…his clothes looked new, but they hung off him, and that hair…he smiled at the rebellious length of the hair. Just who was the person who had stood in the bullpen? It was not the genius Christopher Donovan had sent his way…no, this was a stranger who had been through the Clinic and he'd not been part of that process…What had Reid revealed? Did he still want to work for the unit? None of the team knew how to relate to him. Morgan had tried but Reid seemed to have a haunted look and his colleagues found it difficult to meet those big expressive eyes… they were now shuttered…they had lost some of their sparkle. Reid's innocence was gone but then that was hardly surprising…

Gideon sipped the full-bodied wine, and his thoughts kept coming to one conclusion, what had Max Pentall done to Reid…

Spencer had gone to Jo's apartment to check her mailbox and to put the mail on her mahogany dining table. He watered her plants, like he had promised, and sat down on her bed and felt her lingering presence…he missed her terribly. Jo sent him e-mails everyday and often pictures of her exploits. She was now coming to the end of her time in Paris and was flying to Florence next.

He had printed off one picture she'd sent of the wedding, it was of the three bridesmaids, dressed in full length lilac empire style dresses, with long sleeves, he noted. Obviously Katie was aware of her scars and didn't want to distress Jo. The three women were all of a similar age, but different heights and colouring. The tallest was Nordic looking, a long-haired blond, that had to be Agnetta. Then there was Sarah, the bride's sister, with her mousy shoulder length straight hair and finally Jo, with her short dark brown curly hair. Reid loved her hair with the subtle variations in its tones that made her dark curls fascinating to observe at close quarters. They all carried posies of white, pink and red carnations and there was a mischievous twinkle in their eyes… Agnetta stood to the left of Sarah and the smallest, Jo, was the other side. Whoever had taken that photo, outside of the church, had been trusted because all three of the women looked so natural and relaxed. Spencer had put a copy of the photo in his wallet and another copy was propped up beside his bedside lamp, the side she usually took, nearest to the window.

Spencer looked round Jo's bedroom; they did sometimes come back to this place. The feature wall had very expensive wallpaper in crimson with a stylised tulip flower design in black. The remaining walls were a plain pale cream and the furniture in the room was all black ebony. It was very dramatic on one level, but made warm by the accessories that reflected the owner. On the cream wall, opposite the bed, was a print of Escher's 'Day and Night'. Spencer had told Jo that he would like that for his bedroom, it would go very nicely on his feature wall! The cover on the bed was black silk and boldly embroidered with a magnificent impression of a phoenix in metallic threads of many colours. Jo had told him that she had bought it on a trip to Italy, a couple of years before, along with the embroidered cushions. They were also of black silk, but this time of imaginary flowers, and embroidered again in a variety of the metallic threads.

On the floor, in the far corner, was a bear dressed in red boots, an odd red hat with a large brim that had a safety pin holding the brim out of the bear's eyes. Finally this toy bear wore a blue coat with wooden toggles. On one toggle was tied a cardboard label with the message, 'Please look after this bear'.

"He's called Paddington and I got him on a trip to London when I was 20," Jo's voice echoed in his mind. Spencer smiled to himself, Jo liked bears and she had quite a collection back at her parents' home.

Suddenly his cell sounded, "Hello! Where are you?" he asked.

"Sitting in my hotel room, it's pouring with rain and its cold and…I miss you so I thought I'd call and find out how things are going back at the BAU."

"The team got back today, Hotch spoke to me in his office…nothing very alarming…."

Spencer and Jo spoke for around 15 minutes and suddenly the world didn't feel so empty…

The weekend had been cold and very damp for the time of year. Spencer felt quite cold when he got to work, with the air-conditioning and his lack of body fat. He had arrived wearing a plain black sleeveless cashmere vest over his long sleeved striped shirt and brown wool jacket. But he went to his locker and pulled out his dark honey coloured heavy weight cardigan; it was more comforting than the jacket. He could wear his watch over the knitted cuff and that would stop it slipping down revealing how slender his wrists were.

When he went to make himself some coffee, Morgan and Prentiss had beat him to the kitchen and were deep in a friendly banter. Reid thought how happier Prentiss seemed now and she had obviously been accepted as part of the team, despite her unusual arrival.

Reid poured water over the coffee granules and looked for some sugar in the cupboards at eye-level.

"Reid," the voice softly said, but the young man almost dropped the pack of sugar he'd just found in the cupboard.

"Sorry," Hotch apologised, "I didn't mean to startle you," The Unit Chief looked compassionately into the wild brown eyes of his youngest team member, "We have a new case, 5 minutes …"

"Yeah, I'll be there," Reid managed, but his heart pounded in his chest at the interruption of his thoughts and now he tried to calm himself for further scrutiny. Reid, the psychologist, knew that Gideon and Hotch would be watching and assessing him all through this case and from now on, until they felt he was behaving as a competent member of the team.

Reid noticed Gideon, he was wearing his professional mask, and Spencer felt as if he was looking straight through him when he first arrived to take his seat. Reid decided to ignore him and concentrate on the presentation of the case that J.J. was giving.

It hit him without warning, one minute he had been looking at the photographs of the victims from Groton, when suddenly…he was back in the field, falling backwards after being struck by Hankel. He felt his heart pound, trying to escape his chest, he tried to control his breathing…the last thing he needed was a panic attack at the round table. Reid had to force his mind to concentrate on the case…

It was getting difficult to hear what his colleagues were saying, he wasn't following the thread of the case…He silently prayed that he wouldn't have to rush out to be sick. Reid couldn't avoid seeing the crime scene photos that Gideon was flipping through. But if Reid looked away someone might notice his distress and, his mind told him, that Hotch would be watching his reactions from now on…he had to be careful. The photo nearest to him morphed into himself falling backwards into the cornfield and he relived the force of hitting the ground. Reid swallowed hard, forcing back the threat of rising bile.

Spencer brought his hand up to his mouth, Christ!… He mustn't start gnawing his fingernails…it would be just what Gideon would be looking for…

Reid stayed quiet and kept concentrating on quelling the feeling of sickness, praying no one would direct a question his way. Suddenly, people were moving…so they had to be getting their bags for the journey to the plane. Reid moved with the rest of them, and went down to the lockers to collect his ready bag and then made a detour to another men's room. He was relieved to find himself alone, so no one heard him empty his stomach of his breakfast and coffee. Reid felt he could probably manage the plane journey now, as he brushed his teeth and then found a peppermint to suck to help take away the after taste.

Fortunately, it was not going to be a long flight and he picked up details of the case from the comments the team were voicing. Prentiss was talking about the oddity that the first two victims had GBH in their systems but there had been no sexual assault…

"So why would the unsub use a date rape drug to commit a hate crime?" she asked.

Reid was suddenly back, held helpless in a chair while Tobias tightened a belt round his upper arm…the drug was administered against his will…it sped through his veins…

Spencer mentally shook himself back to the present and to answer the agent's question.

"Maybe he wants to weaken them so they can't fight…" it was an obvious observation…had Prentiss fed the question to him?

J.J. appeared with the fax of a threatening letter that the latest victim had received a few weeks ago. Spencer forced himself to pick it up and read it…perhaps if he concentrated more on the facts he could get through this. Reid analysed the letter, concluding for his colleagues that it was written by an adolescent girl.

Reid looked up, Gideon had been writing continually for the past 10 minutes, was he writing observations about him? Well there was nothing extraordinary about the letter and he had just done a standard profile, at least parts of his core profiling skills were still functioning.

Hotchner had sent him to the Coroner's Office to get the latest reports while the others met the representatives of the local town hall and police department. Reid slipped into the Westchester County Police Headquarters and made for the bathroom. He checked the stalls were empty and locked the door. He looked at himself in the mirror. How many times had he done that in the Clinic during sessions with Arthur and Don…and finally Max. Reid was appalled by his paleness, he had lost weight since Jo had left, and Melinda had watched him carefully eat during the Saturday he had been with them; but he'd had hardly eaten yesterday. Drugs…Hankel had given him drugs… He remembered the first time…

"I don't want it…" Spencer had pleaded to Tobias, but he'd taken no notice of the captive.

Those poor girls! Reid knew what it was like to be given drugs against your will…to feel totally at another's mercy or more correctly, lack of mercy! He reached inside his satchel and found the two bottles…the souvenirs; he had asked Hotch for them, once the hospital had identified the contents. They had been returned empty, of course, but he had a game with himself, he had filled them with coloured water to give the impression that the bottles were full. When the flashbacks got bad, he would look at these bottles and think about what it would mean to replace the water with real dilaudid. Reid wasn't tempted; Hankel had not broken him. Spencer Reid was stronger than Hankel, and he was stronger than his mother had been, he would never willing give in to the lure of drugs. Spencer's new drug was Jo and she was the other side of the world; she was real, not the pretend of these bottles, not the twisted unreal world that dilaudid could offer. Dilaudid was not full of the warmth and the laughter of Jo's world and her family…

"Reid! Has anyone seen Reid?" Hotch's voice held a note of concern as well as a summons.

Spencer slipped the bottles back into his bag and pulled out the coroner's report, he unlocked the door and ran up to Hotchner in the bullpen. Morgan and Detective Ware were discussing the case and Reid noticed the workboard full of the crime scene photographs. There was Sandra Davis laying on the ground covered with leaves…Reid suddenly remembered 'Charles' beating his foot…Spencer blinked hard to rid his mind of the image…He'd survived being a victim, Reid firmly told himself.

Hotch kept him in the Police Station, he was keeping his word to let him slip gently back into the work. However, Reid also knew he had to get over the problem of the crime scene pictures or he'd be useless.

Reid saw Gideon staring at the Crime scene pictures pinned on the board; he forced himself to peer over Gideon's shoulder. But he still only saw before him a flashback of his own ordeal at the hands of 'Raphael', as he played Russian Roulette with his life. He controlled the panic and continued to help J.J. in her efforts at the Police Station, while the other team members rushed around being part of the action. They felt the triumph of saving the last girl, but the sadness of the senseless death of Detective Ware. Reid thought how fickle life was and longed for Jo to be back in Alexandria.

They were on the plane going home, Spencer couldn't believe that he had managed to survive his first case, but he felt desperately tired and troubled by the re-occurring flashbacks. Morgan had been upset at the shooting of Rick Ware and insisted on attending the funeral; Prentiss had stayed close to him, she was closer in age to Morgan and they seemed to share a common interest in Kurt Vonnegut. Spencer was pleased that Morgan seemed to be dealing with the shooting well and Hotch had taken time to talk with him before boarding the plane. Reid had not seen Gideon approach Morgan, but he could have done so at another time.

Morgan had suggested the card game but his mind was not in it. Reid was relieved when Prentiss had come over to chat to Morgan about some book she'd bought at the airport. Reid let his mind mull over his present position; perhaps he couldn't do this work anymore, but he knew that the first few weeks would be the make or break time with the BAU. Spencer didn't just want to be office bound like Barry; if he couldn't cope with the fieldwork he would consider Arnie's suggestion.

"You all right…Reid!"

"Mmmm" Spencer managed, someone had called his name?

"I said are you all right?" Morgan asked, with a hint of concern in his voice.

"I'm fine," Spencer replied, quickly glancing behind to see if Gideon or Hotch had heard Morgan address him, "Thanks for broadcasting it," he added, and couldn't keep the annoyance out of his voice.

Morgan was not sure if he knew this young agent who had returned to them. He certainly wasn't the one he used to tease…this Reid had a new sharper edge to him. It was odd, but he hadn't noticed Gideon supporting Reid like he had supported J.J. after her return. Morgan didn't know what was going on, but he felt it was unfair.

Morgan leaned forward to keep his voice low, "Hey talk to me… Whatever you say to me in confidence is between us…you know that, right?"

Spencer stared at the concerned face before him, he had heard those words before and he had given him his trust only to find that he had spoken to Hotch and Gideon.

"I don't have anything to tell you," he answered, and saw the eyes sadden and felt the older man take his blow of rejection.

Morgan sighed inwardly, he deserved that, he and Reid didn't have a good record when it came to keeping a trust. It was his fault, he had felt he was trying to help and he'd misjudged it with the young genius. But Morgan felt he had to try again; they had failed with Elle, he didn't want to be the one who failed with Reid.

"Reid listen to me…What you went through out there…no body expects you to rebound…." Morgan stopped, the haunted look in the man's eyes opposite made him wonder if he really was the one who should be doing this… But the senior psych didn't seem to be picking up the slack…perhaps that was it…Gideon didn't want him back because Reid was a rival…

Spencer stared at him; Morgan had been the only member of the team to ask him outright, if he was all right. It should be Gideon doing this, but Gideon had been quite silent towards him…Was this how Gideon had behaved towards Elle? Gideon could then always argue that he was giving the returning agent space to re-adjust to being with the team again. Elle had told Spencer how she felt Gideon had just been waiting for her to make a mistake to give him some cause to intervene….

"I can still do my job, all right…I'm not going to freak out…" Spencer found himself saying, and then remembered that Elle had said similar words to him in her hotel room.

"You think I don't know that…" Morgan replied sincerely, he had no idea how he would have coped with Tobias Hankel.

Spencer stared into the earnest eyes. Morgan was trying to reach him, he ought to try and meet him half way and not shut him out like Reid felt Elle had closed the door in his face when he had tried to help her.

"It's the crime scene photos," Spencer said softly.

Morgan looked puzzled. "Crime scene photos?" queried Morgan, hoping to keep open this tiny crack into Reid's present world.

"The dead girls in the leaves…" Reid clarified.

"Reid, we've seen worse," replied Morgan, his mind racing to try to understand.

"I know…I know we've seen worse, but…for the first time I know…I look at them and I know what they are feeling, like right before…" Reid whispered, and Morgan thought how utterly vulnerable the younger man looked.

"That's called empathy…and it's a good thing," Morgan firmly stated, trying to anchor the man before him in reality.

Spencer shook his head and rubbed his eyes, Morgan wondered how much sleep he was getting.

"It's not…It's got me all messed up. I don't know how to focus. I can't do my job as well…so what do I do?" Reid pleaded softly to his listener.

Morgan plunged ahead with his certainty, "You use it…Let it make you a better profiler, a better person."

Spencer stared at him and he felt himself raise his emotional barriers as he repeated wryly, "A better person."

Morgan nodded, feeling that he had given the younger agent his wisdom of experience, but Spencer filed it away in his mind. His inner self continued the conversation …really Morgan, if you were that empathic you would not bully, under the disguise of teasing, and you wouldn't subject Garcia to the sexual harassment, that you call friendly banter. Reid had never liked to hear them. He knew that in other offices their behaviour would not be tolerated and Reid thought Garcia let down the dignity of her fellow women by encouraging the 'so called' banter…

Reid closed his eyes but he was not sleeping. He heard Morgan rise from his seat and go and sit with Prentiss and start up a conversation about the book she was reading.

Spencer's mind continued its inner conversation of what he really thought…Empathy, of course, he knew it was empathy because he was an empathetic person. It was what made him a good psych and a good profiler, but it was also the very thing that made Gideon keep his distance… Gideon knows I see what's wrong and he doesn't like it…he's afraid of his pupil, but I have still so much to learn…

The team dispersed to their individual vehicles when they got back to Quantico. Hotch wished everyone a relaxing weekend, but Gideon had silently gone without a word to anyone.

Spencer got home and put a vegetable lasagne to heat through in the oven. He made a pot of peppermint tea and went to check his e-mails. Jo had sent more photos, this time of her distant relations. She definitely favoured the Italian women in the family and he could imagine her in 40 years time, with that maternal roundness and greying curls, like the older women in the picture. He spent an hour on the computer and after ate his meal, but he felt empty and slightly fearful. He had slept very badly while away and was tired but he didn't want to sleep if he was only to dream about his kidnap again. He picked up his lute and began to play a selection of Galliards and Pavans by Dowland and he felt a little calmer, but he really needed to talk to someone who understood.

Spencer sat hugging his lute; the way the senior psych was behaving was professionally incorrect. If he told Max, it would provide him with ammunition against Gideon. How could Gideon behave like this to him after he knew what he had been through…Was this his fault because he had not wished to see any of the team while on sick leave? He wondered if Elle had felt this alone when she returned. But then Spencer snapped out of his mood and reached for his cell and pushed the buttons. He had never used the number before…

"Hello, Spencer, How are you?" the familiar voice answered.

"Hi, Arthur…Ar..Arthur are you busy…?"

"No, shall I come over?"

"Please, I need to talk to someone…"

End of Chapter 16


	17. Chapter 17

The In-Between Times: Chapter 17 

**by Helena Fallon**

This chapter will make special reference to the episode 'Distress' and my interpretation of events in the context of the story I have created.

Spencer Reid was grateful for the personal numbers he now held. Arthur had been at his apartment within 40 minutes and they talked for a good 3 hours. Both men knew that the team's senior psychologist had failed in his monitoring of the returning agent.

Arthur had re-assured Reid that he could call him any time, and that meant, even if the agent was in the field because he was not going to fail him. Arthur also told Spencer that he could use any other member of the Mental Health team he felt he needed to talk to. Arthur then talked about the problems the BAU team had been experiencing in the past 4 months and he was sure that was how Hotch and Gideon would explain Gideon's behaviour. However, Spencer was not happy.

"Are you telling me that I have been treated properly by the senior psych?" he asked, being totally forthright because he had to measure his own reaction against another professional.

"No, you have not been treated correctly. But use this experience in a positive way, and never treat another re-turning agent like that yourself. The question is how to give you support and monitor Gideon because, if we're not careful, he's going to bring the whole team down with him."

Spencer's eyes grew wide at that, "That's a bit over the top isn't it?"

"Is it, Spencer? You're a psychologist and fortunately with contacts, but Gideon is acting irresponsibly. You've told me that you've not mentioned your new friends to Hotch or Gideon…"

"I did tell Hotch that I'd changed my contact number to Craig Petersen…"

"But you've not let on about a girlfriend…who isn't here at the moment anyway. Spencer, as far as Gideon is concerned, you have no one to turn to and he has offered no support…that is unprofessional and dangerous. Several of us think he did a similar thing to Greenaway, but we had no one to compare his actions against in the unit…with you, we have. I'm very sorry, but I have to make an official note of this because Gideon may find himself before the disciplinary board, which may be the only way to monitor what is really going on with the unit. As you observed in the Clinic, Gideon is slipping with the team…Oh he works 110 per cent on an actual case but the monitoring of the stress on the team is being ignored, and we both know why…"

Spencer felt sick, it was true, he had been watching this happen in slow motion…Gideon had failed to help Elle and now what had happened to Elle, was beginning to happen to him.

"If Gideon acts the same way he did with Elle, he'll keep his distance until I snap in some way…with Elle she was insubordinate towards Hotch and he had to intervene but, by then, Elle had lost confidence in both Hotch and Gideon." Reid replied numbly.

"Spencer, you're not Elle, you have 3 numbers…."

"4 actually…" and he saw Arthur raise his eyebrows as a question mark, "Arnie…"

"Bless him, he's a good man and he wouldn't have done that unless he was worried," Arthur said with relief. He knew Arnie was a very private person, and usually did things strictly by the book, so to reach out to Reid, like that, was quite exceptional for him.

"So why has Gideon been allowed to slip like this?" pressed Spencer.

"Spencer, it's a case of the high profile psychologist, who suffered trauma himself, but he's never allowed the Mental Health team to help him in the way we helped you…Gideon thought he didn't need it. I'm hoping that we may be able to selvage his career but, unfortunately, we're going to have to present him with the evidence that he can't wriggle out of…You do understand that I have to report this to Max, don't you?" Arthur again stressed the importance of the matter.

Spencer felt drained, but he knew that it was his case that was going to bring this to a head. He hated this but at least he was a psychologist and he had the backing of some good people at the end of a phone, even if they could not always be beside him.

"Yeah, I just hope he behaves differently with the next case," replied Spencer, but he didn't sound too optimistic.

"So do I, Spencer, I don't want this to get to a tribunal, but we have to think of less able agents and Gideon himself…he does need help, even if he's in denial."

They had talked until past midnight and Spencer had fallen into an exhausted sleep quite quickly after Arthur had left. He had a busy weekend to fill the time while Jo was not there. Shopping, cleaning and laundry were all mundane tasks that kept him occupied during the next day. On Saturday evening, he went to a reception at the Torpedo Factory Art Centre, where Greg and Phil were pleased he had accepted the invite, and he met some interesting local artists and other residents of Alexandria. The feature wall in his bedroom remained without a piece of artwork, but secretly, that was because he really wanted Jo's Escher print.

Spencer slept badly on Saturday evening and was awake between 2 and 5 a.m. only then to fall asleep until 10:30. He got up and showered, he had promised to join family lunch with Margaret and Alan Petersen and he had over 100 miles to drive.

"Here's Unckle Spensor!"

Spencer could hear Lydia's voice proclaiming his arrival as he got out of his car.

The front door swung open and Lydia and Craig smiled at him.

"Just in time! Mom's about to start putting the food on the table. Good to see you, Spencer," Craig said as Spencer reached the door, and the doctor cast his professional eye over his friend. Lydia slipped her small hand into Spencer's, smiling impishly up at her father's friend, and took him into the dining room.

"Hello Spencer, Glad you made it or I would've been sent out to find you…." Alan quipped, as he fastened his grandson into the highchair.

Family lunch at the Petersens meant just that, but Spencer liked the atmosphere because to him this was what he believed a family should be like. He had experienced a similar time with the Bishops' back in Las Vegas, last year. Their eldest son was home with his family, but they still had insisted Spencer stayed with them for a few days…Spencer felt honoured that the Bishops' still kept his old room just for him and had even asked his permission to decorate it a few years ago.

Margaret was the lynch pin of the Petersen family; she was the sort of woman who quietly ran the home and all those within it, with good sense and gentle humour. Although a more retiring personality, compared with her husband, she was obviously worshipped by the family and her opinions were highly regarded. Spencer could see where Jo got a lot of her organising skills from and her home-making expertise. Jo actually looked more like her father, who favoured his Italian mother and had the dark eyes that he had passed on to his children and grandchildren. However, Alan believed his wife had the rule of the domestic side of the house and he the finance. It made Spencer smile because it was a rather artificial division, he had been made aware of Margaret's other life by Melinda; Margaret was the very active fundraiser on the Board of the Memorial Hospital. She had been involved with the hospital for nearly 10 years and had offered to stand down, when her son applied for a post there, in case anyone saw a conflict of interest. However, there was a unanimous vote to keep her on the fund raising board, because all those you knew her respected her innate sense of fairness.

"Spencer, more trifle?" Margaret asked, with her gentle smile.

"Well, just a little more…"

"Can I have the cherry?" Lydia's voice piped up.

"Manners!" commanded Craig of his daughter.

Lydia turned her dark eyes and yellow curls his way, "Pleez, Unckle Spensor, Auntee Jo lets me have her cherries," she said, the big eyes reminding him of her missing aunt.

He smiled indulgently at her, "Yes, …Oh look, Granny has given me two; you're lucky today," he replied and wondered what it would be like to have a daughter of his own. The suddenness of the thought surprised him, he had never thought himself that good with children, but he seemed to cope well with Ben and Lydia.

He spooned the cherries on to Lydia's dish and she grinned with delight. These children were so happy, it was such a contrast to his own childhood, and it made him feel happy just to witness their contentment.

Suddenly the happy atmosphere was broken by a familiar demanding tone of a cell phone.

"Not me, I've altered my ring tone," said Spencer, inwardly relieved that it was not the BAU summoning him back to work.

Craig had moved to the hall way to take the call. When he returned, he had his surgeon mask in place.

"Sorry people, I've got to go, there has been a nasty pile up with a tanker…burst into flames…" he kissed his children and Melinda went with him to the door, as everyone else wished him a safe journey.

"Melinda, you can stay tonight and I'll drive you home tomorrow if you like?" Margaret suggested.

"Oh, yes pleez Mommy!" Lydia announced her opinion.

Melinda smiled, it was not the first time that Sunday lunch had been interrupted and Craig had to take the car.

"Of course, Lydia wants to choose one of Aunty Jo's bears to sleep with…and then there's her doll's house…" Alan said, with the indulgence of a grandfather.

Lydia looked up with her big dark eyes, "I always play nicely with Auntee Jo's things,"

"Yes, sweetheart, I'm sure Aunty Jo won't mind," Margaret said, beginning to gather plates together.

"Let me help," Spencer said, rising and helping her clear the table, while Melinda looked after her rather food splattered son.

"Thank you Spencer, you're quite good at loading the dishwasher now," she gently teased.

"Well, I did get my instruction from experts," he retorted, as the grin spread across his face. He loved to come here, and he felt them gather him into the family despite the absence of Jo.

"Have you heard from Jo?" Margaret asked, as she set the machine working and then switched on the percolator.

Spencer's eyes twinkled at the thought of coffee; Margaret met his twinkling eyes with her own.

"My daughter has some strange ideas sometimes…She wouldn't eat broken cookies for years…they had to be unbroken or they'd not pass her lips," her smile widened at the memory, "I refuse to take her seriously when she tries to limit your coffee intake… Now you look like a man who runs on coffee!"

"Definitely when I'm at work, but I've been trying to have more tea when I'm home, especially in the evening to help me sleep…But you know Jo, her hearts in the right place …"he said, and he felt a warmth spread through him at talking about her in this house.

"All too well…Those bears of hers, there's no room for them in her apartment…"

"Nor mine!" Spencer added, "I don't think I'll be able to afford the mansion big enough to fit in all her valuables."

Margaret laughed, "This is where family homes come in useful, even when the children leave you still seem to store their clutter! Oh Spencer, I'm sorry…you don't have that luxury, do you. But you know that you're like family to Alan and I, don't you?" Margaret suddenly said, and looked up at him with large compassionate hazel eyes.

"Where's…Oh sorry," said Alan, bursting in and suddenly sensing the sensitivity of the moment...

"I was just telling Spencer that, as far as we're concerned, he's family," Margaret simply said to her husband.

"Of course you are, my daughter loves you, you appear to love her…so is there a problem?"

"You can tell he's a judge, can't you…sums up things succinctly, as usual, before pronouncing sentence," Margaret said, shaking her head at her husband's unique way of handling things.

"Sentence …I hadn't got to the sentence…What's the crime?" Alan asked innocently.

"You're the one who made loving our daughter sound like a crime…"

Alan shrugged his shoulders, "Spencer, you and Jo seem happy together, what more could a father ask for in life…you seem like a good guy…so what's the problem?"

"There isn't one," said Spencer, "Margaret thought she might be overwhelming me with family but actually, I just feel accepted here," he spoke from his heart and he saw Margaret's eyes well up with tears. The next moment, Spencer found he was being hugged by Margaret and felt that he'd passed through an invisible emotional wall. He returned the hug because it seemed the most natural thing to do and he looked up to find a smiling Alan, who reached out and squeezed Spencer's nearest shoulder.

"You're always welcome here, Spencer, you're practically family to us," Alan said quietly, and then changed the mood, "Look coffee's ready!"

The day passed quickly. Spencer was caught up in entertaining Lydia, which included going to see the donkey and Shetland pony that lived in the paddock, and feeding them with carrots and apples. Nero accompanied Alan, Spencer and Melinda on these exploits, while Ben stayed with his Granny and slept through some of Lydia's obvious excitement with the rest of the family.

After a light evening meal, by Petersen standards, Lydia insisted on Spencer reading her bedtime story. That night, she had chosen 'the three bears' and Spencer was amused that her bed was shared with no less than 6 soft teddies of various sizes and colours. Melinda was happy to include the very thin and tired man into the rituals that her children enjoyed. Both she and Craig were very worried about their friend, and wondered if they should say anything to Jo when they next contacted her.

Once the children were settled, the two women sat discussing plans for the Hospital Fete and Alan caught Spencer's eye…

"My study?" he suggested softly, hoping that Spencer would agree.

Spencer quietly followed the older man into his spacious workroom and sank into the soft leather of the ample tan couch. He felt comfortable here, surrounded by law books and the occasional family photograph. There was also a music system and a coffee machine on an old sideboard, Alan had his own world here and it was peaceful. Spencer closed his eyes soaking up the calmness of the room; Alan slipped back in with a jug of milk and bowl of sugar.

"I remembered the sugar this time and we won't disturb 'the plotters' next door…"

Spencer smiled at the thought of 'the plotters', as far as he could tell they, and other doctor's wives and local dignitaries who gave their time to the Memorial Hospital, were very efficient at keeping the charitable fund giving very much alive and well. It may not have the kudos of some of the bigger hospitals in the country, but it was well thought of within the state and did attract talented individuals who didn't want to live in more expensive or stressful cities.

Alan brought him his coffee and placed the sugar bowl within reach, he sat down in his favourite high-backed chair opposite the young man.

"So, how are things really?" Alan asked, in his usual straightforward manner. Spencer liked the way that Alan was unafraid to go direct to the problem he perceived before him.

Spencer took a sip of the Colombian coffee and decided that Alan deserved an equally straight answer.

"I've just had my first case…it was difficult, I kept having flash backs…"

"Did your colleagues understand?"

Spencer snorted derisively, "My boss didn't send me out to the crime scenes and kept me close within the police department where we were based…but," Spencer took another sip of coffee and thought how he could best continue, "but…the senior psych was tired up with the case and didn't ask me once 'if I was coping'…infact, he hasn't asked me how I'm doing since I've been back."

Alan looked steadily at the young man before him. Melinda had warned them that he'd lost weight when she had fed him last weekend. Margaret, a former nurse herself, didn't like the dark areas under his eyes and the too prominent cheekbones.

"But you coped with the work given to you?" Alan continued to probe.

"Yeah, it was ironic that one of my least sympathetic colleagues actually showed concern on the flight back. I was quite touched really, in the past he's been the one to come close to bullying. He at least wanted to know what was wrong…he's not the senior psych and it should have been his job…"

"What would you have done if you'd been the senior psych?" asked Alan, out of curiosity and also to judge if the man really had a genuine grievance or if the PTSD had skewed his judgement.

"Any returning agent, who has experienced a traumatic event, should be observed carefully for signs of stress. The first few weeks back are always the most difficult and it is advised that the agent should be eased back into routine work. If fieldwork is involved, they should be with an experienced agent and not alone, where possible the agent should be working with a senior agent for the initial period of return. They should be re-assured that a period of adjustment is natural and it's not a backward step to have flashbacks." Spencer intoned, and Alan thought it was like he was reading from a book.

"So… who were you working with?"

"Hotch had me initially get the Coroner's report then I was based in the Police Headquarters, where all the agents spent some of the time before having to leave to follow up inquiries. But I was left with J. J…she deals with the media and liaisons with the various police authorities and the like. I was helping her gather data and filtering through it, looking for connections. It's something my mind is good at… going through all the data and picking up patterns and possible leads. But even J.J. seemed reluctant to ask me if I was OK when alone, I guess I would have liked that, but I think everyone was in shock at my appearance…so perhaps I was expecting too much…"

"Is there anyone you feel you could have approached on the team?"

"It's difficult once you're on a case…you know what we deal with, usually time is important and people just concentrate on finding the unsub and solving the case as soon as possible. But we have a senior psych with us, who knows what happened to me, but he's behaving just like he did with Elle..." Spencer stopped aware that his voice was beginning to take on a higher register, itself an indication of his stress level.

Alan looked at him with dark compassionate eyes. It was obvious to him that this man was under stress and deeply hurt by the actions of certain team members, even if he was trying to make excuses for them.

"Who was Elle and what happened to her?" Alan asked gently and wondered if he had pushed Spencer too far, he might not feel comfortable talking about another agent's case.

Spencer turned large sad eyes on the older man, "She used to be with the team, she got shot and Gideon…that's the senior psych, didn't support her enough in my opinion…She wasn't the easiest of personalities…very alpha female. Anyway, there was a shooting of a suspect and it was rather a muddy area…I personally think she lost her nerve and took justice into her own hands…but nothing could be proved. Anyway, Hotch wouldn't let her go out with the team afterwards, when we had a case. Hotch stayed at our base, and by the time we returned, Elle had resigned… I don't think she was supported enough, and some members of the Mental Health team share my opinion…" Spencer stopped, perhaps he had said too much already.

"You tried to help her," stated Alan, reading between the lines.

"Yeah…but to Elle, I was just the geeky young agent…too young to understand."

"So what are you doing about your own predicament?" Alan asked, growing increasingly concerned that all was not well with the famous team.

"Oh, don't worry," Spencer grinned briefly, "I've 4 private numbers of senior members of the Mental Health team and because they have had their suspicions, but no actual proof, I can call them anytime I feel the need. I rang Arthur Friday night and he came straight over. I actually slept well for the first time since Jo…"

Alan smiled, "Jo doesn't know about this does she?"

"No, none of what its been like…I didn't want to spoil her vacation," he confessed, but he felt comfortable with Alan, even more comfortable than he felt with Gideon these days. Perhaps this was just the natural process of being accepted into Jo's family and that they had nothing to do with his work.

"She'll be back soon, but if she knew…"

"Don't say anything…please," pleaded Spencer, and he was relieved when he saw Alan nod in agreement.

"Just as long as you know you are welcome here anytime and that you can put me on that private contact list of yours…just in case you're fed up with a psychological perspective…"

Spencer felt an overwhelming sense of belonging; it was rare for him to feel too full to even express words. He sometimes felt this with the Bishop family and never thought he would find it outside that family unit. The wind began to get up outside the house and he remembered that a stormy night had been forecast.

"The good thing is that people are keeping an eye on you outside the team… You just try to remember, to give back the trust they have in you…This calls for brandy, it's gentler on the stomach than whisky," pronounced Alan, rising and opening the sideboard cupboard to reveal a cache of bottles and various glasses.

Spencer had gone to bed three hours later, feeling comfortably warm and relaxed, and he fell to sleep as his head hit the pillow. Unfortunately, four hours later his phone woke him up. He reached out to the nightstand and felt for the offending noise.

"Mmm?" he managed groggily into the cell phone.

"Reid?" Hotchner's voice sounded hesitant.

"Yeah…sorry Hotch…What time is it?" he asked, wondering where had he put his watch in this unfamiliar room.

"Sorry, Reid, we have a case and need you here as soon as possible."

"Hotch," Spencer's voice sounded too loud inside his head, "Er erm…I'm not at home…I'll be late, I've a long drive." The gears of his mind were refusing to turn at their usual speed.

"Where are you?" Hotchner's voice sounded genuinely interested.

"Oh…'bout 50 miles north of Richmond…I'll be with you as soon as I can," Spencer replied and ended the call abruptly.

Hotch looked at his phone with some incredulity,

"What's wrong?" asked Hayley sleepily.

"New case, the deputy director has sent our way…but that was Reid…he wasn't at home, he'll be coming from Richmond way," Hotch was still trying to get over the shock of the abrupt way the young agent had just ended the call, "it wasn't like him…"

"I think young Reid has a private life and you've just interrupted it," said Hayley, amused at her husband's reaction.

Hotch shrugged and put the phone down. It was something more; it was not how Reid usually sounded when he woke him up. The Unit Chief got out of bed, still trying to get his own tired mind into gear, and pondered upon the phone call even while driving to Quantico.

The rest of the team was all assembled; each trying to look alert for the presentation that J.J. was organising in her usual efficient manner, despite the look of tiredness in her eyes. Everyone had drunk coffee as soon as they had arrived and Morgan and Prentiss were on their second cup. The agents sat at the table but Gideon chose to sit at the back of the room, Hotch had told him that Reid was going to be late, as he was coming from Richmond way. Gideon was curious and wondered whom Reid knew that far away, perhaps a girlfriend finally, he mused, but she couldn't be serious or he'd have her on his contact list. Gideon had checked that, after he'd returned, and noticed a Dr. Craig Petersen as his new contact number. Hotch had said that Dr. Petersen and his wife were friends, but they didn't live that far away….

Meanwhile, Agent Reid was not feeling his best. He had managed to grab a quick coffee and a cookie before leaving the Petersen home. Spencer had left a scribbled note for his hosts on the counter top, thanking them for their hospitality but he'd been called into work. He had a muzzy headache, not exactly like the hangover feeling he remembered from his student days, but he told himself that he would not drink 3 generous brandies with Alan again…no, he'd try and limit it to one in future. Reid was thankful that there was hardly any traffic and he sped away towards Quantico hoping that he'd not miss too much. He hoped Hotch would put the file on his desk so he would be able to skim over it before he got to the Conference room.

Reid was pleased that he'd put his refreshed ready bag in the car on Saturday, so at least he would not have to go via his apartment, but he felt dreadfully sluggish and it was an effort to concentrate on the road. The more he tried to concentrate, the worst the headache seemed to be getting; it was not a good start to Monday. Reid stopped at traffic lights and reached into his satchel and found a bottle of water; he hoped that would help. He pulled over for a few minutes to drink the water and take a couple of pills for the pounding that was now going on in his head.

The all night café was his saviour and he bought two take away coffees before he turned into the Quantico base complex. On reaching the BAU offices, he found the case file on his desk and he began to force his tired eyes to focus, and the brain reluctantly churned into gear, so he could get up to speed before entering the conference room with his second cup of coffee. He made his way up the steps and noticed Gideon before he even entered… 'So he had taken up his observational post,' his mind observed, 'Well this morning Gideon would have something to think about because this agent was feeling fragile.'

Reid walked in as casually as he could, with the file under his arm and the second coffee in his hand, but everyone paused while he took his seat. That annoyed him, he remembered telling Hotch he'd got a long drive in so why hadn't he passed that on …he was usually in as soon as possible, but this was just one of those things. If the weather had been better, he would have driven home last night, but the thunderstorm gave Alan the excuse to ply him with more brandy. Reid slumped into his seat, he felt pissed off with the team's reaction …the disapproval in Gideon's eyes, the disbelief in Morgan's, concern from J.J. and the curiosity in Prentiss' look. Hotch just looked rattled but said nothing and the presentation of the facts and discussion continued around him, as Reid tried to think beyond the pounding in his head. He was getting impatient with the repetition of the obvious, but it appeared that they were about to be going to Houston to help with the deaths of 3 men within 48 hours.

Reid suddenly contributed, summing up the case for the room, "We have no evidence, no apparent interaction between the unsub and the victims, pre or post mortem, and an indistinguishable M.O. Should be simple," the youngest agent said, his voice dripping with cynicism.

'Well,' Reid thought, as he went to get his ready bag, 'That should give Gideon something to think about! Obviously Hotch was rattled by his behaviour, but what did he expect, he'd been woken up in the middle of the night and he'd driven over a 100 miles!'

Reid contributed to the case discussion on the plane but he knew he was not functioning at his best. The pounding in his head was not helping his present mood swing. He was not going to get upset by the crime scene photos this time, he told himself firmly, and he hoped that this time he would be able to get some time outside whatever police building they were occupying. Reid thought he had better show willing to participate more actively in the case, and noticed that Gideon and Morgan were already planning their activities. It was interesting that Gideon was again not intending to work with him; it was almost as if he was deliberately distancing himself…was this to enable Gideon to be objective in his assessment of him, or deliberate because Reid might be seeing more of the older man's flaws?

"I'll map out the area and see if I can find any places the victims would have visited in the neighbourhood," Reid offered.

"Good, maybe we can find a connection between them, I'll help you with that," Prentiss quickly added.

Reid felt irritated by the woman, she was always trying too hard to fit into the work of the team, "I can handle it," he replied, hoping she would take the hint.

"I wasn't suggesting that you couldn't," Prentiss shot back, but she was unsure about the man who had turned up late that morning.

Reid didn't censor his retort, "You know what 'I'll help you with it' means?"

Hotch was shaken into action, "Reid, Prentiss will help you with the geographical profiling and victimology," Hotch firmly stated, prepared to slap the agent down further if need be.

Reid looked at him with unreadable eyes, the face neutral, "Fine," he replied, and slipped back into his own thoughts.

Reid noticed the glance between Hotch and Gideon, they had not liked his exchange with Prentiss…She was part of the team but that didn't mean that he trusted her yet, and he didn't like the way she'd jump in.

"Remember, this is a high crime area…be vigilant and nobody goes anywhere alone," Hotch added, hoping to take the sting out of the tail for Reid. He could understand, on one level, how annoying Emily Prentiss could be…she had not been chosen in the normal way, her sudden appearance smacked of string pulling and politicking which he could do without at the moment. Prentiss was having to work hard to be accepted by the team and sometimes her blatant pushing into some elses space was irritating. She had done the same thing with all of them over the months since she'd been with them, but Reid, in his present mood, was not tolerating her actions very well.

Hotch watched the youngest agent as Reid retreated into himself and seemed to push even further back into his seat. Hotch wondered if he was trying to make himself invisible because he was not making any attempt to communicate with the rest of the team now. Reid seemed lost in his own thoughts as he stared out of the small window. The young agent occasionally touched his face as if he had an itch. It looked as if he'd not had time to shave, and perhaps he was one of those men whose skin was super sensitive to the facial hair beginning to grow. He didn't look too well, but then he had been on sick leave for 5 months and getting back into the stressful routine of the team was not easy. At least Reid had shown a desire to be self-directing with his skills this time, on the previous case Hotch had directed him as he slipped back into the routine of an investigation. The memories of the early morning phone call came flooding back and Hotch wondered whom he had been with. The Unit Chief heard the seat opposite sigh, with a body sitting down, he looked up.

"He's in a very testy mood this morning, I don't think I've ever heard him like that before," Gideon whispered, and Hotch looked into the older man's dark eyes but they were as unfathomable as his proteges.

"I obviously woke him up and he had a long drive to get in…"

"Do you know where exactly he was?" probed the senior psych.

"No…and don't you think he's old enough to have a private life?" Hotch replied, and wondered why he had answered in such a defensive way, "Have you spoken to him about what he got up to while on sick leave?"

"No, we've been too busy and I wanted to let him do things in his own way…I didn't want to start with what might have sounded like an interrogation," Gideon answered softly.

"How do you think he's adjusting now he's back?" Hotch asked, he was feeling uneasy, Gideon had been different with J.J. The senior psych had spent time chatting to her in the kitchen, on the plane…all rather informal, but he didn't seem to be doing the same thing with Reid.

"He's been through a very traumatic experience but he's contributing to the team, although he's not interacting with them in the same way… that's understandable after sick leave. He's got to prove to himself that he can still do the job. Reid is brilliant, he'll be all right…just give him some space." Gideon softly re-assured.

Hotch sat and listened, remembering another fateful time Gideon had told him that Reid was brilliant, but something was not quite right and he didn't have the time to analyse his thoughts while they had this case to solve.

The agents were soon working at their usual frenetic pace, once they reached Houston, each knowing that it may be only a matter of time before another murder took place.

Reid was totally absorbed with the geographical profiling; the team had taken over the Conference room in the Police Department, while the police kept a respectful distance from the elite team. The map of the city was under Reid's scrutiny but the streets at times ran into one another; there was constant construction noise, which seemed to be conspiring with his headache to prevent him from working effectively. Hotch stood quietly by the door watching Reid, and wondering if there was really a problem developing between the young agent and Prentiss. Reid was ignoring Prentiss; he could feel her eyes on him as she sat on the table watching him, but he wanted to be working on his own. It was not easy with the pain in his head and his eyes felt tired. He'd not had enough sleep and 3 brandies should be slept upon longer, he told himself for the future.

J.J. came in with a large plate of cookies, Prentiss smiled at her and Hotch turned towards her, sensing a change to the room as she entered.

"What's that?" the Unit Chief asked the smiling blond.

"One of the detectives' wives made us cookies," she replied, placing the plate on the table.

"Wow! Home-made cookies!" exclaimed Prentiss, and Hotch thought that she was one of those lucky women who were naturally slender; he had not ever seen Prentiss refuse food.

"Yeah, I guess that's what they mean by Southern hospitality," J.J. beamed.

Reid was annoyed by the silly grating women's voices that had now joined the cacophony of the construction noise. He turned to see what all the fuss was about.

"What are you saying?" he asked in an irritable, but oddly distant, manner; the drilling had distorted their voices and he had not heard clearly what was said.

Prentiss instantly summarised for him, "Southern hospitality…" she smiled, but the women saw only a look of pure annoyance from Dr. Reid.

"I need to concentrate," he said irritably, as he walked to the nearest open window to close it, despite the heat of the room, "How can anybody hear with all this work going on?"

J.J. didn't like his tone, "Well you're gonna have to get use to it…Construction crews are working round the clock...means the poorest are being kicked out of their homes…" She wondered who had upset Reid…Perhaps he had been with someone and he had not wanted to be disturbed… 'Well, welcome to the real world again, Dr. Reid,' thought the gentle J.J., 'Our work includes unsociable hours and broken dates…'She caught Hotch staring at Reid's back, and then felt perhaps she was being unfair, she remembered how strange it had been for her when she had first returned.

The return of Morgan, Gideon and Detective Fuller galvanised the team again. Gideon went straight over to the map.

"Unsub might be homeless. Appears to have been living in a building next to where the security guard was attacked," Gideon said, his mind totally on the case.

"These are the locations of the last 3 murders, all near abandoned buildings," Reid replied, in an equally all business tone. J.J. thought how alike the mentor and protégé seemed as the pair stood together before the map.

Hotch suggested that the unsub might be someone recently displaced. Gideon picked up on the idea and suddenly ordered Prentiss and Reid to check the shelters. Prentiss immediately got up ready for action.

"Yeah, we're on it," she said, with her usual enthusiasm to be doing something, but then Prentiss stopped, "Unless…you okay with that Reid?" she directly addressed the young agent.

"I'm fine with that," Reid said with a cold tone of agreement, as he picked up his satchel to join her.

J.J. realised, as they left, that she had been holding her breath; she had never heard Reid sound so icy with a colleague. Morgan caught her eye, and she saw a puzzled look in them; both knew that the team could do without any bad atmosphere when on a case…Just what was wrong with their genius?

Prentiss and Reid travelled silently to the nearest shelter to the murders. Prentiss had hung back as they approached their assigned car but Reid went automatically to the passenger side, so she realised that she would be driving. They travelled in silence because she didn't want to have any conversation brutally curtailed by her fellow agent's ill temper.

Emily was worried, she didn't know Reid very well but she remembered, that before his kidnapping, he was the quiet one of the team, sensitive and with a childlike wonder about the facts of the world. But all that now seemed far away as the agent had returned a stranger and the team was reverberating from his re-appearance amongst them. Emily was further puzzled because she saw how differently Gideon was responding to Reid compared with J.J. Agent Jareau also had time off with the trauma she had experienced but just before she returned, Gideon had spoken quietly to them and said that it might take her time to adjust back into her role and advised them to be patient and to re-assure her. However, Gideon had not done that for his protégé…was it because he was a profiler and that was why he was treated differently? Or was it simply that they had been on a case, when he returned, and there had not been the opportunity? But surely the Bureau had told the senior agents so something could have been said on the plane? The confused Prentiss kept mentally arguing with herself, and kept coming back to the same conclusion, that things would have been done differently in her old department.

She glanced quickly at him as they waited at traffic lights. Reid seemed so thin and pale, there were dark circles under his eyes and his hands seemed even more restless than usual. Her passenger seemed to need to occasionally scratch his throat; he touched his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. She thought that he ought to have it cut, but Hotch had not said anything. Emily knew her boss, back in Kansas, would have marched him to the nearest barbers for a short back and sides. She turned into the side street; old empty looking buildings surrounded them, most had been boarded up but it didn't seem to have deterred the vagrants from using them.

They entered the shelter and a small alert woman introduced herself as one of the administrators. Prentiss smiled a greeting and explained that they were agents Prentiss and Reid from the FBI.

"Really!" Angie repeated, not sure she had heard correctly over the construction noise.

"Really!" Reid replied sarcastically, and scanned the room with a superior air.

Prentiss tried to put the disconcerted administrator at ease by getting her to chat generally about the shelter and the effect of the re-generation programme. The demolition had displaced a lot of homeless people and there was no where for them to go. Prentiss was sympathetic to their plight.

"Well, thank God there are people like you who take the time…"

Reid had had enough of the female prattle and rudely interrupted to get to the point, "Do you have a list of everyone who comes through here?"

"Uh…We have a sign in sheet, but we don't force anyone to sign if they don't want to… Some don't even use their real names, Elvis eats here a lot," she replied looking to Prentiss for understanding.

"We would appreciate any lists you have," Prentiss soothed, trying not to let her annoyance at her colleague show through.

"Why?" asked Angie.

"Have you noticed anyone who acts unusually aggressive towards the other residents?" Reid continued, oblivious to the administrator's disquiet.

"What's this about?" Angie asked, quite unsettled by these two agents.

"A series of murders in the area. The perpetrator maybe a homeless man, maybe someone who stays here…He may be in this room as we speak…" said Reid, his eyes roaming around the room, profiling those gathered in his sight.

Prentiss was appalled at his insensitivity, "My God, Reid!" she managed in her exasperation at her colleague, but he seemed to be intent on ignoring her.

Agent Reid ploughed on with his own agenda, "Have you noticed anyone who acts paranoid or displays explosive, unprovoked outbursts of violence, more than just pushing or shoving? I mean, someone who really tries to harm others?"

Angie looked uncomfortable. "There are territorial fights over food and places to sleep. The nurse treats people for minor injuries all the time, but no ones seriously hurt." she explained.

"If any one does come to mind, give us a call…thank you," Reid said, and gave her a contact card before turning and leaving.

Angie fingered the card nervously and turned to the female agent, "A murderer?"

"I'm sorry… Umm…we…this investigation is still…"Prentiss took a deep breath and tried again, "No one's actually been hurt in a shelter. We're just…we're re-acting with an abundance of caution. So, please, let the police know if anything unusual occurs…Thanks," Prentiss managed, hoping the poor woman was not going to be looking over her shoulder for the rest of the day.

Prentiss went outside trying to calm her rising anger towards Reid and his behaviour. She saw him watching the homeless milling around outside the shelter, while waiting for her. At least, she thought ruefully, he was following Hotch's orders and he had waited for her so they could go back to the car together. Emily strode towards the younger agent purposely.

"There's a high presence of mental disorders with the homeless," her colleague said to her as she approached.

"Yeah," she retorted impatiently, "What the hell was that in there?" Prentiss challenged, not even trying to curb her anger.

"What?" he replied mildly.

" 'He maybe in this room as we speak' We have nothing to support that!" Prentiss let rip.

"We're investigating a serial homicide, should I pretend there's no danger?" he replied, his manner questioning her reaction to the situation.

"We left that woman potentially afraid of every man who walks into this shelter," Prentiss angrily shot back, she was not going to be intimidated by the genius.

"Again, until we find this unsub, how is that a bad thing?" Reid countered, sounding so reasonable by comparison to her anger.

"What is the matter with you?" asked Prentiss, her voice rising out of exasperation.

"What do you mean, 'what's the matter with me?"

"I have never seen you act like this," she tried to explain and hoped he would realise that she was genuinely trying to understand.

"Oh really? Oh in the months that you know me, you've never seen me act this way? Hey, no offence, Emily, but you don't really know what you're talking about, do you?" Reid replied, annoyed at Prentiss for implying a depth of understanding of his character, which he didn't feel existed. He turned away, and walked briskly back to the car.

Emily Prentiss was stunned by the words this man had just said. 'Christ,' Emily thought, she had to get back to the precinct without murdering him!

The two agents travelled together again in silence. Reid felt drained by all the constant noise and was surprised that there had not been more outbursts of frayed tempers in the area, because he felt very on the edge with his own. Emily Prentiss was just annoying him at the moment, whereas previously, he would have shrugged it away as an example of her usual pushing in to be accepted. However, the construction noise along with his own lack of sleep and headache was not making him the most sensitive of people. He glanced at his watch and realised that he had to wait another two hours before he could take another dose of painkillers. He reached up and rubbed his chin; he wished he'd had the time to shave, the stubble was hardly visible but with his sensitive skin it was making his face itch…If he didn't shave for a few days, things would eventually be all right, but the first 24 hours were always itchy. Reid let his mind meander back to when he had grown a beard as a student; his colleagues had nicknamed him Shaggy because he resembled the cartoon character. In those days, his hair was longer than he had it now, and together with the beard, it went well for the genius image…he doubted if the FBI would let him go round like that.

Reid strode in to report to Hotch that the shelter administrator had not noticed anyone displaying aggressive behaviour. But Hotch informed them that they now believed the unsub was killing to protect some makeshift shelter of his own. However, they were not ready to profile yet; they were in need of a lucky break.

That lucky break came that night when a man was putting out his garbage and disturbed a vagrant, hiding behind the bins. The man's young daughter had screamed at the vagrant and he had stopped attacking her father. Father and daughter had made their way to the precinct to get help and the young Maria told her story and gave as good a description as she could. But it narrowed things down to a white man in dirty clothes, who was wearing a wedding ring, and looked sad when he had seen her crying.

The team assembled in the conference room to discuss the development. Reid was relieved that the headache pills had finally kicked in because he'd already taken the maximum during the day. Reid had turned his attention back to the map, while Hotch told them about the attack, the unsub had seemed to be unaware of the affect his actions had been having on the child.

'Oh, shit,' thought Reid, 'I was concentrating so narrowly to cope with how I was feeling that I was pretty insensitive to that shelter administrator. Christ, if I block out the empathy then I loose the understanding to do this job. I'm coping with the crime scene photos this time, just like Arthur thought I would, but I've got to stop blocking my feelings too much. I was too sharp with Prentiss, but she can be annoying at times…'

Garcia rang them, interrupting Reid's inner conversation with himself. Garcia explained that while analysing satellite photographs of the fifth ward, she had noticed there was a SOS made up of garbage and debris.

"He's asking for help," said Hotch.

Reid's mind clicked into gear, "Wait guys," he said, as his mind raced, "Listen, outside," and the team paid attention to the muffled construction sounds, but before Reid could explain further, Hotch verbalised his thoughts…

"Chaos…SOS…"

"He's a war veteran," Prentiss added.

"He thinks he's in a war zone," Hotch expanded, and the team felt the pieces of the puzzle begin to fall into place.

"He may not even be aware he's killing," Hotch continued.

"How's that?" asked Detective Fuller, who had been sitting quietly amongst them.

Reid slipped into information mode, "When a soldier suffered from anxiety, depression and flashbacks in World War 1, it was called shell shock. In World War 2, battle fatigue. Now we refer to it as PTSD, post traumatic stress disorder…a side effect is slipping into dissociative states…"

"The mind divorces itself from reality so it can cope with the trauma," Prentiss clarified for the detective.

"He's reliving a memory. He's trapped in his head in some war zone…" Gideon added, and the team was once more making progress.

Dana Woodridge and a family friend, Max Weston, came to the precinct, as requested. She had earlier reported her husband, Roy, missing around the same time as the murders began. In the conference room she revealed, in answer to questioning, that Roy had been a soldier. Max further explained that they had served together in Mogadishu, back in 1993.

Reid asked Dana, "Does he display any sort of…uh behavioural tics? Certain everyday things…do they make him jumpy or startled?"

Suddenly J.J. remembered her own reaction to barking dogs…She now was very jumpy near big dogs, and if they barked, she still felt a rising panic even if they were on a lead. She looked at Reid and thought about his behaviour, when they had first arrived, towards the constant noise and how insensitive she had been with him…

Dana was speaking and J.J. shut down her thoughts and listened to the woman.

"He has a hard time with loud noises. He can't be in crowds. He has nightmares and wakes up in cold sweats. The smells are the worst…He…if he smells something burning, like a barbecue, or gas, or fire…he gets sick. It really only got bad about a year ago…"

Gideon knew that they had the right man, but he could not understand why he had not received treatment. He knew from personal experience the power of smell to ignite memories that you wished well hidden in the deep recesses of your mind, but at least he had received help. He talked with Max, away from the room, to discover what he had not told his wife and understood the reasoning for not sharing the horrors with her. There was not anyone in the team who had not suffered, and still occasionally suffered, from the nightmares caused by their job. Equally, he doubted Hotch ever told his wife the real details of his work, or the younger agents shared such things with the friends they might have.

The precinct began to gear itself up for the SWAT team to do a building by building grid search of the area. Spencer was uneasy, wondering about the effect this all might have on Roy; he felt he had to voice his concerns.

"Guys, the SWAT teams gonna have guns right…What happens if he tries to fight them?"

Hotch met Reid's concerned eyes with his own troubled ones. No one replied to Reid but they all saw a very tense looking Gideon leave the room. The older profiler was too tense with the possibilities of what could go wrong to even attempt to re-assure the unsub's wife. Agent Jareau stayed close to Dana Woodridge in an attempt to offer some human comfort.

Reid once more turned to the map in the hope of narrowing down the search and trying to understand the missing man. The case particularly troubled him now they knew that the unsub was suffering from untreated PTSD. It reminded him of his own still on-going symptoms, which had lessened through the excellent help he had received and the understanding of the Petersen family. However, certain symptoms had still returned when he started work at the BAU again. Arthur had been re-assuring that it was normal, that the symptoms would recede again as he realised that he was still very capable of doing the work. However, Reid still thought he was very isolated from the team because the re-assurance had not come from the team's senior psych …but here was Gideon working flat out to save a man he didn't know.

"Reid, what are you working on?" Hotch asked, from behind him.

Reid turned to find his concerned and puzzled looking boss staring at him.

"Three days ago, police shut down the freeway at 5 p.m. for 10 minutes. Cars were stalled and Roy must have tried to exit on the surface streets. Sadly, he ended up in an unfamiliar area with a flat tyre. He was changing that tyre when an 8 storey building, on market, imploded 5 blocks away. He heard the explosion and reacted like a mortar bomb had landed nearby. This explosion is what triggered his dissociation…and since then he's been stuck in that state. Running when he needed to, sleeping when he could, camouflaging himself into his surroundings, hiding from his perceived enemies."

"He's reliving the worst moment of his life… He's gotta be terrified…" said Hotch with compassion, and a distant part of the Unit Chief's mind also registered that Reid was displaying his empathetic abilities once more.

"Yeah," agreed Reid sadly.

Reid was once more left with his thoughts but these were interrupted by a call from Garcia. Reid was not in the mood for her long-winded chatter but he sifted through the information she gave him on petty thefts and small burglaries. He decided he had to refine her searches.

"Nothing a guy lost in the streets might use for survival?" he asked the very intelligent woman back at Quantico. He could hear the furious tapping of her fingers at the computer keyboard.

"…Some vandalism at construction sites…Communications radio missing from one of them…"

"Wait! Did you say radio?…" and suddenly Reid's mind had leapt on, he left Garcia talking to herself, as he hurried to tell the others.

This news lead to another tactic to find Roy. His friend, Max, assured the team that Roy would be using the radio to try to contact their base. Hotch and Fuller organised a dozen UHF radios, each tuned to a pre set channel frequency to see if they could pick up any signal Roy was sending.

Reid heard Gideon plead with the police and SWAT team, "I can guarantee you, we're right about this profile. This man wants to get rescued. All I'm asking is that you just give us a chance to bring him in."

Reid heard his mentor's voice so full of compassion for the sick man, terrified out on the streets, lost in his memories. But for Reid, he was also worried for the wife who had told J. J. that she had lost her husband 14 years ago. It was strange to Reid that she had not sought help for her husband…surely that would have been the natural thing to do if you loved someone. But then a small voice at the back of his mind mocked him about his own parents…why had his own father not stayed and had his wife committed?

Then Roy was suddenly found. Garcia had worked her own special kind of magic and triangulated the flags he'd set up on buildings so a helicopter could find him. Suddenly, Gideon, Hotch, Morgan and Max were gone to try and bring Roy back safely, while the remainder of the team were left with the wife praying silently for a good outcome. It was Morgan who rang Reid to tell him that Roy had been shot dead. Reid felt his sadness sweep through him, Prentiss didn't have to ask and he turned to the window where he knew J.J. was waiting. Their eyes met and the two sensitives knew that they would not forget these past two days easily. J.J. had the hardest task to comfort the woman who would now probably live with the unanswered questions of why had Roy not sought help? Why had not she, and his friend, forced him to seek help? But Reid also knew that you 'could take a horse to water, but you couldn't make it drink'.

There was no sense of triumph for anyone involved; it had been a tragedy, long in the making. The team was subdued, like the rest of the precinct, and quietly collected up their things. However, they were grateful for Detective Fuller coming to thank them for coming to his rundown part of Houston, because his precinct had not thought the elite team would venture into their violent world. The team understood that this was a good and over-worked Detective, who had tried his best; unfortunately, there were not always good outcomes.

Prentiss noticed that Gideon was missing and Hotch said he thought he knew where he was and disappeared himself. Morgan watched him leave. He thought how much Hotch protected the older man when things got bad. Gideon was known for throwing everything he had into a case but Morgan wondered at the cost, because it wasn't right that Reid seemed to be left swinging at times on his own. Morgan glanced towards the youngest agent and thought he had hardly eaten while on this case and he had noticed him taking pills, with bottled water, in a quiet moment when he thought he was alone. He knew Prentiss was pissed off with him, every one had sensed the gulf between them since their shelter assignment. But Morgan felt that Reid was improving because he seemed to be coping with this case better and he had not picked up any problems looking at the crime scene photos. What troubled Morgan this time, was how Reid had looked when he had arrived for the briefing…and that first day. Reid suddenly looked his way, his eyes were not friendly, the young man seemed to have erected an invisible wall around himself.

Hotch had found Gideon before the wall of patriotic graffiti, a mural that proudly told the world, "Fallen but not forgotten". Hotch could only imagine the distress Gideon had felt being with the dying man, trying to give comfort for the soldier who believed he was dying on the battlefield. There had been no words for his wife, just concern for the child Roy had seen. Gideon had returned and gone to speak with Dana Woodridge to tell her truthfully what had happened, and hoped she understood her husbands concern for the child that ultimately lead to his death. Hotch sat beside his friend, hoping that his presence would convey the support he was prepared to give him. It was eerily quiet because the construction workers had taken the rest of the day off to honour the victims; it all seemed ironic to the two men.

"We did everything we could," Hotch gently reminded Gideon.

"Sometimes it's not good enough," Gideon dully replied.

"I know…" agreed Hotch, but they did not live in a perfect world and Hotch wondered if Gideon was beginning to find the work too stressful. He had seen the senior psych show signs of withdrawal from the team before, but he always seemed to come back to them after repairing his emotional barriers. Hotch wondered if this 'period of emotional repair' was the reason he appeared to be avoiding talking to Reid?

Hotchner's cell rang, and he flipped it open.

"Yes, Morgan?" he answered in his officious tone as the Unit Chief.

"Have you found Gideon because the pilot says she's ready for us…"

"We're on our way."

Hotch noticed that everyone was subdued on the plane and people sought out their own quiet space to doze or sleep outright.

Gideon wrote some notes, on his own, while Hotch filed his report to save him having to do that when he got back. He looked around as he went to make himself some tea. Prentiss was deep in a book, opposite her sat J.J. who had her eyes closed and slumped to one side of the upright seat. Morgan was dozing at the back of the plane alone. At the cockpit end he saw Reid, curled up like a cat, fast asleep on one of the longer seats. He had taken his brown jacket off and had put it over him like a blanket. There was one slender arm hanging down, with the shirtsleeve pushed up, revealing the skeletal wrist. Hotch observed his sleeping form from the kitchenette. The man looked terribly young and vulnerable; the hair needed a wash and cutting but, if it were cut, it would make the already lean face look skeletal. At least he had found time to shave, which was an improvement on yesterday. Hotch didn't think the lack of a shave was intentional…he'd had a long drive and had arrived sooner than expected.

Hotch picked up his tea and made his way back to his seat. Gideon was already dozing and Hotch noticed that Gideon's hair was a lot thinner and the lines on the face had deepened. He recalled the conversation he had with Max Pentall some weeks before, when they had discussed the punishing work schedule of this team, Gideon was coming up to retirement. Often the Bureau would let agents work beyond the first stated retirement age because a well trained agent usually still had a lot to offer a department. However, Hotch began to wonder if Max had been warning him that perhaps Gideon was burning out on the job and they were all too busy to see it. He seemed to be taking failure more personally these days. Hotch had spent time talking with Gideon after Roy's death to make sure he was all right, but what about Reid? Hotch still felt something was not right, perhaps he would get a chance to talk to Reid later in the week, but he needed to get home to Hayley tonight because she had sounded upset earlier.

Hotch got up and woke Gideon and Morgan to warn them of the coming landing. He walked up the aisle to the still sleeping Reid and reach out to gently shake the nearest shoulder. The man almost just jumped up; Hotch felt the bag of bones beneath his hand jerk up and he instinctively tightened his grip and pushed Reid gently back into the seat.

"It's all right," he whispered, as he gazed into the frightened, bewildered eyes, "We're about to land, you've got to belt up…regulations remember?" He didn't remove his hand from the agent's shoulder but squeezed it reassuringly, waiting for the eyes to respond with understanding to his surroundings. He saw the large brown sunken eyes loose the fear from them and look up with the softness of a child's looking for understanding.

"All right?" Hotch asked softly, not wanting anyone else to hear, and he kept his body positioned so the rest of the team could see little of this interaction.

Reid nodded as he realised where he was, "Did I have a nightmare, did I callout?" he whispered in a worried tone.

"No, not at all, I just came to wake you up for the normal landing procedure. Were you having a vivid dream?" Hotch gently asked.

"No, not as vivid as I usually have them. I'm all right," Reid said, swinging his long legs to the ground, as he sat upright. Hotch decided to sit with him for the landing.

"What were you up to Richmond way?" he asked in a quiet voice, as he did up the seat belt.

"I had lunch with a family I know and because of the thunderstorm, stayed the night. Unfortunately, I got plied with brandy…3 generous brandies, so being woken up only 4 hours later was…painful. I had to take the maximum dose of headache pills yesterday and it was only by the evening that I began to function properly." Reid replied truthfully.

Hotch smiled, "Brandy's gentle on the stomach but more than two can be …painful, if you don't get the sleep," he conceded with an understanding smile.

Hotch felt pleased with himself, when he saw the young man briefly smile in return. It may not have been the smile of the pre-Hankel Reid, but it was spontaneous and not forced. Perhaps, if he could get more time to talk to him later, he could make him feel more relaxed with them all again.

Once on the ground, the team all quickly dispersed their separate ways to try and have an unwinding evening.

Spencer Reid went home feeling emotionally drained. He cooked one of Jo's vegetable moussaka meals and sat down at his desk to check his e-mails. Jo said that she had taken a quick trip to Milan but she was missing him and was thinking of trying to alter her flight home. Spencer felt a wave of excitement at the thought that she would try to come home sooner just to be with him. However, it also reminded him of the case and the wife who had apparently done nothing to help her husband, despite noticing changes in the past year. Spencer wondered if that sort of thing happened to all relationships…a sort of tiredness that manifested itself in a lack of care. But then he thought of Dr. and Mrs. Bishop and the warmth and sharing that they still had in their marriage and the Petersen's who seemed to show every sign of having a very happy relationship.

Reid remembered the concerned looks that had been cast his way during the case, but Prentiss had been annoying…even if she was the one to ask him outright what was wrong with him. Spencer recalled cornering Elle on her own and asking her the same question and how she had pushed him away. Now, perhaps, he was beginning to understand Elle's sense of isolation within the team when she had returned. Gideon had not been seen reaching out to work with her or to be chatting with her…Hotch had done that for him on the plane tonight…but Gideon had not talked to him since his return. Spencer thought how ironic it was that Roy had been suffering from PTSD and how everyone had shown concern for the man's plight but they seemed reluctant to see what was before them in the team. He thought how typical it was of Gideon's recent behaviour to concentrate upon the case but was ignoring the problems of the team he worked with. Reid wondered what was happening in Hotchner's life because he had sensed a sadness beyond concern for the team. Spencer felt his own mood becoming too introspective.

Dr. Reid reached for his phone and dialled the person he would like to speak to tonight.

"Hello, how are you?" the answering voice asked.

"Guess I'm coping but I upset the dynamics of the team on this case…It was a war veteran with undiagnosed PTSD, he ended up being shot by SWAT," Reid recounted dully.

"Can I come over, I'd like to see your apartment?"

"I'd like that, I do need someone to talk to again," Reid admitted, "Tea or coffee?"

"Tea, Ceylon if possible and I'd appreciate seeing your lute,"

"Oh that's easy, I'll play some Dowland for you as recompense for coming over,"

"I'd come even without the offer of music," the voice quickly replied.

"I know, but I really appreciate the support I'm getting, Don," replied Spencer sincerely.

"That's what we promised we would do…I'll be with you in around 30 minutes."

Spencer put down his phone and went to his kitchen to prepare the black shiny tray for tea. But deep in his heart he felt sadness because, yet again, he had to reach out to those beyond his team. He began to seriously wonder if he really wanted to remain part of the group. His thoughts began to roam over how much he had changed; perhaps he just did not fit into the dynamics of the team anymore.

End of Chapter 17.


	18. Chapter 18

The In-Between Times: Chapter 18 

**by Helena Fallon.**

The chapter will make special reference to the episode 'Jones' in the context of the story I have created.

Don sat in his office feeling tired and unhappy. He had been trying to write-up the visit he had made to see Dr. Spencer Reid, the previous evening, and the report was taking too long. It was rare that a psychologist had to monitor a colleague in a rather backhanded way, but the senior members of the Mental Health team had decided that this was the only way to handle the matter. Don knew that it was important to monitor Reid and try to help Gideon at the same time, but he preferred things to be more open.

There was a knock on his door, he hoped that it would enable him to put off the report a bit longer.

"Come in!" he called, as he brought up the screen saver on his computer.

He looked up to see the smartly dressed Max Pentall, looking alert and ready to take on what the world might throw at him.

"How's Spencer?" he asked without preamble.

"He's lost weight and he's anxious about his place on the team. I just can't believe that Gideon hasn't approached him, insisted on working with him…you know, all the normal things," replied Don, still feeling a sense of unreality that in all the weeks that Spencer had been at home he had not used his number, or the other numbers, until he was back at work.

Max sighed and sat down.

"I don't like it either, but I've gone back over the reports both Gideon and Hotch wrote when Greenaway returned after her shooting…it seems to be following the same pattern. Hotch is doing his job as the Unit Chief, but Gideon seems to leave the returning agent to re-adjust without personally working alongside them to re-assess their stability. I've checked Theresa's report on Jareau's last psych evaluation; the agent spoke about how everyone seemed to help her slip back into the unit again and how Gideon chatted to her every day."

"Well he's not doing that with Reid, but I just can't understand why?" said Don, who had found the whole session with Spencer upsetting, "You know, the unsub was found to be suffering from untreated PTSD and Gideon went all out to try and save him. But there's Spencer…right before him and he's not supporting him…It makes me angry, Max."

"Yeah…But why isn't he supporting him? That is what we have to discover…I personally think it's all bound up with loosing the old team in Boston…He never really let our people get to the source of his personal problems. Perhaps we should have insisted he stayed at the Clinic… but he wouldn't have any of it; on one level he was fighting us all the way, he just didn't trust us to help him."

"But when he went back to the BAU he seemed to be working well with Hotch and the new team…at least he still had Reid, playing his protégé, to help him fit in again," said Don thoughtfully, wondering where his boss was going with his own thinking, "You know, it's ironic, but Spencer treated Gideon, on his return after PTSD, far better than he's treating Spencer."

"I know," stated Max with a sigh, "I get the feeling that the team was not briefed about Reid's return. The Bureau works that team into the ground and one of these days there's going to be something major that blows up in our face and the Bureau will be looking for scapegoats. At least we gained Spencer's trust while he was at the Clinic, and we must maintain our support of him while he tries to re-adjust back. I warned Hotch that if he was not careful he would loose him some weeks ago…How do you think he feels about his place with the team?"

Don's worried blue eyes told Max a lot before he even opened his mouth to speak.

"He said he was very snappy with Prentiss for pushing into his work space. He felt she's still trying to justify her position on the team because she wasn't chosen in the normal way. Hotch pulled him into line pretty quickly when he heard them but later, while in the field, he'd really let rip at her and then felt sorry because she'd been right to criticise his behaviour. What really upset him was the fact that she'd been the only one to ask him 'what was wrong' on that case…when it should have been obvious to an elite team of profilers."

"Typical Spencer, straight to the heart of the matter…He told Arthur, after the first case back, that Gideon was behaving in a similar pattern to the way he had dealt with Greenaway…"

"Yeah, he told me that last night. He said that Gideon seemed to be waiting for him to make a mistake. He turned up late for the briefing…he had warned Hotch…but he sensed, the way the team looked at him when he arrived, that the message had not been passed on…"

"Why was he late?" asked Max, who knew that Reid was usually a more punctual member of the team according to the security logs.

"He'd been at the Petersen's family home, he'd had over 100 miles to drive and he had told Hotch. Reid was annoyed with the looks he received and things didn't get better until he got rid of the headache…"

"Headache?"

"Judge Petersen gave him 3 generous brandies and he only had 4 hours sleep," Don explained, and still felt a certain sympathy for the young agent, but at least he had been honest with him about it.

Max shook his head, "Ouch! Did he tell anyone on the team?"

"He told Hotch as they were coming in to land after the case…he'd come to wake him up and sat with him for the procedure…"

"Good, so Reid still trusts Hotch enough to talk about such personal matters. Has he mentioned Jo to Hotch?"

"No…"

"So he's still very unsure where that relationship is going aswell," replied Max quietly, as if to himself, "She still in Europe?"

"Yes, but he'd had an e-mail saying she was trying to get her flight brought forward, but it's the wrong time of year…the busy summer season…"

"Mmmm… You think Spencer is stable enough to go and interview an inmate who's dying?" Max asked.

"He coped with the work he's done with the BAU recently and the last case, despite its PTSD connection. Yeah, what's this about?" Don enquired, very intrigued by Max's question.

"Reid's last doctorate was interviewing the criminally insane…well Clark Norton has been given weeks to live…Reid was with the original team when they caught him, so he knows the case. The Prison Governor informed the Bureau that he's been rambling about other girls…they wondered if we wanted to send anyone."

"You sure know how to piss off Gideon, don't you!" Don shot back, he had visions of a backlash within the team.

"Gideon has a Conference to go to in London, he leaves this afternoon, Strauss confirmed it on their journey home yesterday so he hasn't even turned up today. Hotch is taking a few personal days because his wife isn't well. Morgan has some updating sessions to do with the Bomb Squad…The team will be office bound and Reid is qualified to do it and it will boost his confidence to use his skills." Max justified his reasoning.

"He'll be in a controlled environment, and if he's willing to travel to Washington State Prison, I think a few days away from the team doing something different would be good for him. It'll also remind the team that he's a proven interviewer in that field," Don said, pleased that Reid was going to get the chance, usually such things went automatically to the senior psych.

Thirty minutes later, Agent Reid was intercepted en route to the BAU with the message that Erin Strauss wanted to see him immediately he came in. He made his way to her office and was greeted by her smiling secretary, a white haired woman whose nametag declared that she was Iris Pitt. Reid was curious as to why he was being summoned before the head of their section and he mentally reviewed all his actions since his return. He didn't think any warranted the intervention of Strauss, but suddenly his thoughts on the matter were cut short by the appearance of the lady herself.

"Agent Reid, good, please come in," she said in her usual brusque manner, which always set him on edge. He never had felt comfortable in her company and at the Christmas functions, when she circulated to talk to all her staff, they mutually seemed to keep their interaction as brief as possible. She indicated the chair and Reid sat giving her his full attention. "Agent Reid, we've had a special request, which I'm aware falls within your expertise…I understand that your last PhD was about the criminally insane," she smiled and Reid nodded, feeling uneasy at getting her full attention.

"Clark Norton has terminal cancer. I understand you know the case so we are going to send you to the Prison…the Governor is willing to let you stay with his family…" Suddenly her phone rang and she picked it up, "Strauss!" she said, her voice sounding like the cracking of a whip, and Spencer felt himself jump at its harshness.

Strauss picked up the folder on her desk and proffered it to the young man, who rose out of his seat to reach it. He sank back down and opened it, quickly reading the letter that had been written to the Bureau and explaining that this might be the last chance to see if Norton would reveal where any other bodies were hidden.

Reid remembered the case well because it was his first serial killer with the team. He had been at the FBI for only a year, but Gideon took him with the team as much as possible. Norton was a loner who preyed on young female hitchhikers during the Spring and Summer around the North Cascades National Park. He worked as a self-employed carpenter and lived in the quiet town of Stehekin, but often worked in the Lake Chelan area. Gideon thought the 40 year old had been killing for at least 10 years…probably following his domineering parents' deaths in a car accident. However, he only admitted to the 6 bodies that were eventually uncovered by a landslide, after a torrential storm. Since his capture, and imprisonment, his mental health had deteriorated and now he was given 2 months to live, perhaps less with the speed at which the pancreatic cancer was spreading.

"Fine, I'll deal with it," Strauss said into the phone and then turned her attention on the agent in her office. She observed him for a few moments; totally absorbed in the file she had given him, but almost on the final page. She knew he was a genius but it was quite an experience to witness his famed capacity for speed-reading. Strauss thought how terribly thin he looked, but the Mental Health team assured her that he was well enough to undertake this task and she wanted to try out his talent. She personally thought that Gideon had held this agent back, and agreed with Pentall when he had made his very coherent argument for the changes in the future training procedures of certain departments.

Reid sensed eyes were on him and looked up to meet Strauss's scrutiny, she smiled again but Reid didn't return the gesture.

"We would like you to go as soon as possible, he may not be well enough to talk about his exploits…Heinz says that he seems quite rambling at times and mentions odd things about killing the women. As you know the case, everyone just wants to do what they can…even if it's just one more family who has closure." Strauss said and Spencer thought, for a fleeting moment, he actually saw a flash of compassion in her steely eyes.

"I will do whatever I can…but didn't Gideon want to do this?" he asked warily.

"Gideon should be on his way to a conference in Britain today, he won't be back until the middle of next week. But you are well qualified to do this…I understand that was how you came to the FBI's notice; you managed to get one of your subjects to tell you about 3 more bodies"

"Yes, it is my field, and that probably was how the Bureau noticed me, but my professor was already talking about introducing me to Gideon."

"How old were you?" asked Strauss, intrigued by this quiet young man before her.

"I was 20 at the time and writing up my case studies. When I went back to talk to one of the subjects again, he began to talk about other names that were not the same as his victims and other details, which only someone really involved in their disappearance, would have known. I informed the prison authorities, they were a little sceptical at first, but I told my professor and he had some influence. He got Gideon to go over what I had, because he'd worked the original case."

"Fascinating, you really seem to have been steered towards the BAU from quite early on then,"

"I was then but I'm still young, I could always change direction," he said quietly, and was satisfied to see her looked of smugness disappear. Spencer Reid was determined not to become a pawn in whatever game Erin Strauss was playing.

Strauss nodded, realising that this young man was a great unknown quantity and hoped that the Bureau didn't loose him.

"The Governor is offering to give you a comfortable room and home cooking so we have booked you on the 11:15 plane. Go home and pack your case, you have a week, but we do understand that nothing might come of this. Good luck, Dr. Reid," Strauss said, handing him his plane ticket.

Reid got up and went straight home to pack; at least he would not be out in the field, in the normal sense of the word, and perhaps some good would come out of it. He was still feeling guilty concerning his snappiness towards Prentiss, but he also knew it was not just the after effects of the brandy. Reid was aware, on reflection, that his sharpness with Prentiss was a sign of the PTSD affecting his usual even temper and it was obvious by her reaction, and the rest of the team, that they had not been briefed that this could sometimes happen with PTSD suffers.

"Hey, where's Reid?" Morgan asked by 9:15, "He's usually here and well down his pile of profiles by now."

Barry walked by; he was acting as the senior agent in charge with Gideon off on a conference and Hotch had taken the rest of the week as 'personal leave'. "He's gone to Washington State to interview a dying prisoner," Barry informed the younger agent.

"Why him?" asked Prentiss, before Morgan could voice the same question.

Barry looked at the pair and thought they could do with a reality check went it came to Reid, "He knows the case involved."

"What's that? Barry you obviously know a lot more than we do about this," Morgan dug out of interest.

"Before your time, Morgan, I was on the team in those days," Barry said, and Prentiss felt slightly uncomfortable. Barry had been out with the team a couple of times, while Reid was on sick leave, but Morgan and Barry didn't get on well out in the field. Prentiss liked the man who seemed to run the office, when they were away, with obvious skill. There were rumours that he was thinking of a transfer and that Hotch was trying to change his mind.

"Hey, so that was the old team…Who is it?" Morgan continued prying.

"Clark Norton, Washington State…he's got pancreatic cancer, might not last much longer. Reid's last PhD involved interviewing the criminally insane, so that's why Strauss has sent him."

"Really…you know he never talks about his research?" Prentiss said, genuinely interested in this information.

"Well, why do you think this place bent the rules for him…One of the people he was interviewing for his thesis gave up some information and 3 more bodies were found. Reid didn't tell us either, but Gideon did when we asked why we were getting a 'boy wonder'…he earned his place here," Barry said, before turning away to deal with a clerical assistant.

Prentiss felt the overt criticism about her own unorthodox arrival at the unit.

"Did you know the team then?" she asked Morgan.

"I wanted to join and I was short listed, but no interviews had been held. Then there was the Boston Bomber case…you know I offered my expertise for that, but Gideon turned down the help because they thought they had it under control. Afterwards, they brought Hotch back from Seattle to head the team and he chose me from among the candidates. Reid was the only one of the original team, but he'd been ill at the time of the Boston case and hadn't been with them. He never talked about them after, he had to get use to a new set of people and some moved on quite quickly…You know it really takes a strong person to stay with this, and its hell on your personal life."

"You don't have to tell me," Prentiss said with feeling, and Morgan chuckled and they went back to their work.

Reid actually spent 8 days up in Washington State and enjoyed the company and hospitality given to him by the Prison Governor, Jim Heinz and his wife, Mary. Their care made the sessions with Norton bearable, as he sat beside the bed-ridden man, who was obviously dying before his eyes. Sometimes, Norton was quite lucid while at others he rambled. However, Reid listened and recorded and analysed and gradually he felt he was beginning to make some sense of it. The state had tried to keep Reid's visit secret, but someone talked, and soon the local Police Department was overwhelmed by calls from distressed relatives of missing girls from Norton's suspected period of killing. The lead detective on the original case, Mark Lincoln, was now a Police Captain in Seattle but he went on the local television station to explain the situation. He was lucid in his interview explaining how although the authorities were doing as much as they could, and that a FBI expert had been sent to help, people had to understand that nothing might come of these efforts.

Much to Reid's surprise, by the fifth day, there seemed to be enough consistency in Nortons' ramblings to provide enough information for a team to be sent out to search the forest area Reid had identified. After a 10 hour search, the first of the 5 more bodies were found. Dental records, already on file, identified 4 of the victims, but they would have to wait for DNA tests to identify the fifth. However, by the seventh day, there was a marked deterioration in the prisoner. The level of pain killing drugs and the frailness of the man's body, as the cancer spread, lead Reid to abandon his sessions. Jim Heinz was sympathetic with the decision and the prison medical staff confirmed the likelihood of Norton's death within the next few days. The newspapers were full of the further discoveries, and Reid's name was mentioned for his efforts in bringing closure to these families who had lost loved ones. Strauss was triumphant because of the good publicity for the BAU and the FBI. She contacted Reid and congratulated him on his work and told him that he could have the rest of the week off, as she was sure he had been working flat out to get the results he had.

Spencer had received an e-mail from his publisher suggesting an extra chapter on the case for his book and he began to type away on his laptop, while the details were very fresh in his mind. The need for notoriety in death was the only reason that he believed Norton had talked. Reid had played on this angle deliberately to see if more of his crimes could be uncovered. Reid knew he had been lucky, the man still had moments of lucidity, but Reid was also relieved that he had not been at the disposal sites when the bodies were unearthed. It had been emotionally draining and he had made the most of his evening brandy, with Jim, to unwind at the end of each day.

As Reid flew back to Virginia he thought that while the work had been unexpected and emotionally gruelling, he was satisfied with the result. He was pleased that he didn't have to go straight back to the BAU as the intervening days would see the case once more disappear off the news programmes, and out of the papers, and hopefully he would be able to slip quietly back. Reid arrived back at his Alexandria apartment at 9:30 p.m. Spencer opened his door and immediately knew Jo was back because he was greeted by the smell of his lavender bath oil. He put his case down and slipped off his coat and padded softly across the wooden floor.

Spencer peered into the kitchen; it was empty. He then looked into the living room and saw packages in a neat pile by his walnut dining table, but no Jo. He quietly proceeded to the bathroom, the door was ajar and he pushed it open expecting to find her there, but he was disappointed again. There was only the bedroom and that door was firmly closed. Spencer turned the brass handle as softly as possible, and slowly inched the door open. Jo was lying on the bed, in her cream coloured silk robe, with her back to the door. He slipped in and as he approached the bed realised why she had not heard him; she was listening to her ipod while reading a book.

Spencer stood for a few more moments observing her. She had not said in her e-mails that she had returned and he smiled at her wish to surprise him, but he thought the surprise was going to be on the other foot. He reached out his long arm and with his index finger ran down the line of her spine from the neck…

"Ahhh!" She jumped as soon as he touched her…there was an intake of breath and she turned over all in one swift movement…

She knew it had to be him; the security of this apartment block was excellent, but the unexpected touch had been heart stopping!

Her face changed from surprise to a big warm smile that lit up her dark eyes and her dark curls seemed to glisten in the light of the dying sun.

"Jeez Spencer!" she managed, before he had joined her on the bed and wrapped his arms around her shapely body. The kiss stopped any conversation and the pair of them revelled in the sheer delight of being so physically close again. It was sheer lust, they both needed the sexual intercourse that followed, a lingering and more passionate love-making could follow later, this was the need to just enjoy each others body as quickly as possible.

Later, as Spencer lay with his head on her breast, listening to the strong beat of her heart, he knew that there were important things to talk about but he was enjoying the way her fingers toyed with his hair.

"As Hotch said anything about how long your hair is?" she suddenly broke the contented silence of the room.

"No," he replied dreamily, not wanting to think about the BAU at that moment. He began to let his hand slowly run up her thigh to rest on her hipbone. He heard her sigh at the pleasure of his touch; he didn't want this closeness to end.

"I've missed you," he confessed, and was rewarded with Jo kissing the top of his head.

"Mmmm good, 'cos I paid extra for a first class ticket and came back via Quebec."

"What!" he exclaimed, raising himself up to look into her dark twinkling eyes.

"It was the only way I could get back over a week sooner than planned…I think it was worth it for the reception I've just received…"she replied mischievously.

"Glad to hear it, but that must have been a…" she reached up for his head, and he let her bring it down, so she could kiss him deeply. He decided that perhaps any more conversation could wait while they enjoyed the homecoming.

Later, while Spencer slept, curled up close to her, Jo thought her thin he was again. She believed that he was as thin as when she first met him and now regretted not cancelling her planned trip to mainland Europe. Perhaps, if she had come home after the wedding, he would have settled back better into the routine of the job again. Jo tightened her embrace, earlier she realised how she could easily count the vertebra and the ribs. Spencer's hipbones protruded and she was grateful for her feminine padding or sex would have been uncomfortable with his excessive leanness. At least he seemed to be sleeping tonight. Perhaps now she was back, he would put on the weight again and sleep better, which would reduce the sunken eyed look and he would not suffer from the cold so much either.

The next day was a Friday, so although Strauss said he could have the rest of the week off… it was not that generous a reward. Jo and Spencer used the day to talk seriously about them, as a couple, and it was agreed that Jo would keep her apartment for the time being, but use it as a studio to paint in while living with Spencer. This was a concession to the previous arrangement where Jo stayed with Spencer, while he was there, but if he was away, she would return to her own place. It was a subtle difference for both of them; Spencer explained that Jo ought to be on his contact list, as his girl friend, because she would then receive support if he were hurt on the job. This change would mean a security check and a form to fill in. Jo was appalled at the length of the form and the questions asked….

"It'll take me weeks to fill this in…" she muttered, as Spencer down loaded the necessary paperwork, "Why can't I do it online?"

"Because you can't…Take it up with the Director, I'm sure plenty of other partners have in the past and its still the same…Look upon it as an endurance test…if you can persevere with this, you're likely to stick with the agent."

"Really…that's all your genius brain can come up with to justify this waste of paper…Anyway, we'll have to eventually find a bigger place, most of my stuff is still at my parents. My small apartment was to prove to myself that I could cope with being on my own; it was in a safe area and a bargain."

"You can only have one bear here!" Spencer suddenly pronounced, "You only want a bigger place so you can fill it with your bears!"

"You've been talking to Mom,"

"Well she did warn me," he confessed, and watched her eyes widen in surprise, "There is plenty of space in the bedroom closets and we could always do what the people immediately below have done."

"What's that?"

"They've made an extra room by putting in a wall from the first window…you know where the dining area is…They couldn't afford to move and they wanted to stay in this area when their son was born."

"I've never seen them, I've certainly never heard a child," replied Jo, rather puzzled by this information.

"These apartments have excellent sound proofing, it came with the specifications of the building…that's why they were a good buy," Spencer explained, "You might actually come across them if you live here while you're not at work. Cheryl usually goes out about 9:30 to do the shopping, she was a nursery nurse, before Adam was born, and Paul is the deputy manager at the station," Spencer explained, while he placed his counter on the Go board. He smiled up at her; Jo was learning quickly his favourite game. They had decided to just spend a lazy few days together around Alexandria before he had to return to the BAU.

Part of the weekend had been spent discussing with Jo what had been happening at the BAU. He explained how Arthur and Don had been very supportive of him, while the team seemed to be unable to cope with the PTSD symptoms he had been experiencing. Spencer had sat with Jo and they had thought about his future in the FBI and his doubts about feeling part of the team.

"Spencer, the Mental Health team have already said that they would have you and there is always teaching, or clinical work within a hospital setting…I don't mind what you chose ...I'll be here and support you. If you want to take the academic route, I'm prepared to move with you…"

"But you're happy at Fairfax Estates,"

"Well, I wouldn't be if you were in another state, miles away. I could find another job, or go freelance and set up on my own," she replied, "I'm not playing at life, Spencer, and I don't think you are either. We've both faced death and survived being victims; I'm thinking about a future together…if that means leaving Virginia, then so be it."

"I don't know what I'm going to do," Spencer said, in a perplexed voice, "The first month back at work is always the worst for PTSD sufferers. Its just I've not had the support I'd thought I would get from the team…You're my only constant at the moment…and your family. The Mental Health team have always been at the end of the phone and both Arthur and Don came here at the end of cases, but the team is dysfunctional in certain aspects."

Monday morning came too quickly but at least Spencer felt a lot better than he had felt for weeks, although he was apprehensive about the team as he drove towards Quantico. He really ought to find a quiet moment to apologise to Emily and perhaps he should tell Hotch about Jo, and say that she was filling out the dreaded form. He didn't think she was a security risk, especially considering the company she worked for. Fairfax Estates' employees were all put through a government security check because of some of the clientele they housed. Reid was relieved that he had slept better since Jo had returned. He had awoken a couple of times, but nothing like during her absence, and just finding her there beside him had settled him quickly …that and the love making. Well, he mused, they always say that sex is good for the insomniac; scientifically he knew it all had to do with the complex release of chemicals and hormones at the time of an orgasm, all of which aid sleep.

"Hey, Reid, heard about your successful trip to Washington State," called Morgan, as soon as he saw him walk through the glass doors, "J.J. wants us all in the conference room in 5 minutes…"

"Right, just time to get a coffee then," Reid replied, turning into the kitchen.

"He's looking a lot better this morning," Prentiss observed to Morgan.

"Yeah, perhaps the trip up north did him good," Morgan replied, picking up his own coffee and heading for the conference room.

"Is Reid in yet?" asked Hotch, as Morgan entered.

"Yeah, he's getting some coffee,"

Hotch nodded, Strauss had been very pleased with the young agent's success and had made a point of coming to his office to tell him. It had been some good publicity, but he was saddened by Gideon's lack of praise. Gideon was just quiet, although he did agree with Strauss that Reid had been the right person to go and that it was his field.

Gideon had himself had a pleasant experience at his London conference, and had told Hotch about seeing a number of old friends and that he had offers of guest lecturing for when he retired. It was the first time that Gideon had broached the subject of retirement and Hotch thought, that perhaps, the older man was just being pre-occupied with the thought of his BAU career coming to a close within the next year or so. However, Hotch hoped that Gideon was gong to be keeping a closer eye on the youngest agent, especially as Hotch had received an unusual warning. The previous Wednesday, before Gideon returned to the unit, Tony, an experienced psych, had seen Hotch in the foyer…

"Hotch, keep an eye on Gideon, if you're not careful things could turn ugly," Tony spoke his warning softly, as they approached the elevators together.

"What do you mean?" whispered Hotch.

"He's a senior psych and there's concern that he's not monitoring properly. Watch yourself…Strauss may try to use it to her advantage."

The elevator doors opened and the conversation ended abruptly, as they entered with several other waiting people.

Reid was the last one to come to the round table. Hotch was relieved that he was physically looking better than the last time he'd seen him. Obviously, home-cooking in Washington State had been good for him and he had a much tidier appearance than the last time he had turned up for a new case briefing.

J.J. began her presentation of the case that would take them to New Orleans. There had been 3 men brutally murdered in the French Quarter before Katerina had struck. Now, over a year later, there had been another murder with the same M.O. Unfortunately, Katerina had destroyed all the reports concerning the first 3 murders, but the present lead detective was sure that it was the same unsub.

Morgan looked up from the case file he was reading. He noticed that Reid was the only one of the team not reading, but staring off into space in his own world. Morgan wondered if he was all right, he actually looked more like his old self today, less pale and less haggard, overall he even looked tidier in his personal appearance.

"Hey, Reid, what's going on up there?" Morgan asked, as curiosity got the better of him.

Reid focused his chocolate brown eyes on the man sitting beside him. Morgan thought the soft brown eyes looked less haunted, and that they were less sunken and with fewer dark circles, than when in Houston.

"I was just thinking of this old friend of mine from Las Vegas, Ethan. I'm pretty sure he lives in New Orleans now," Reid softly replied, but Hotch sitting nearby came alert and began to listen in while staring at the case file.

"Really? Gonna give him a call?" Morgan continued, and was pleased that Reid mentioned a friend. The team often assumed he didn't have friends from his Vegas days because of the bullying of his childhood years.

"Grew up competing against each other in absolutely everything…spelling bees, science fairs…We also both had our hearts set on joining the Bureau, but…first day at Quantico he backed out," Spencer explained further, and Morgan felt he detected a puzzlement about the other man's decision.

"He probably just couldn't take the heat," Prentiss suddenly commented, from her seat at the back, with a broad smile. Morgan was annoyed with her for listening in to their conversation and was about to say something when Reid replied to her.

Spencer turned to face her, "It's not really for us to judge, is it?" Reid mildly chided.

"Right, my bad," Prentiss replied and kept her head down.

Hotch was annoyed at her interjection, and thought her comment had been uncalled for; she was criticising a person she'd never meet. He caught Gideon looking at him and he went over to sit beside the older man.

"That was uncalled for from Prentiss," Gideon whispered, "Reid was being quite reasonable in his reply to her…another agent might've told her to keep out of his private conversations."

"Yeah, she didn't expect the thoughtful chiding though did she?" Hotch whispered back.

"No, that was the reply of a psychologist," replied Gideon softly, and for the first time since Reid's return, smiled at the young agents actions. Hotch noted Gideon's reaction and that the plane was once more silent. He glanced quickly at Reid and noticed that he was staring thoughtfully out of the window. Hotch hoped that Gideon would make an effort to speak to Reid properly this trip, he didn't know what to make of the warning he'd received from Tony.

Later, everyone participated in the case discussion on the plane and the division of the team left Prentiss and Reid working together to see the latest victim at the morgue. The pair of agents were very professional towards one another. Prentiss decided that she would not provoke the young man. J.J. had earlier caught her in the kitchenette and told her that her comment had been uncalled for…

"What's wrong with you, Emily?" J.J. challenged, trying not to raise her voice, "Reid wasn't doing anything to you…that was a private conversation with Morgan…"

"Right…I got the message," Prentiss replied, and then realised how it must have appeared to the rest of the team. She wondered if she ought to apologise, but after Houston she wasn't feeling like testing the waters of friendship towards Reid.

"Make sure you do, Gideon and Hotch noticed," J.J. replied, picking up the coffee she had just made and began her way back to her seat.

Prentiss began to make her own coffee when she heard someone enter the small space.

"Hey, I don't know how you did things with your previous placement, but you don't throw in unasked for opinions like that when it's a private conversation," Morgan said quietly in his straightforward way, as he reached around her to make his own coffee. "He's looking a lot better this trip, but he's still too quiet. You're lucky it was Reid, if you'd done that to Elle, she would've scratched and drawn blood."

Prentiss didn't reply, she was going to be working with Reid again and didn't like the idea of spending more time walking carefully around him. She went back to her own seat and noticed that he was still quietly looking out of the window. Prentiss thought how sad he looked and wondered what sort of careers Reid's friends had. But he was looking better than on the Houston case; perhaps she would pluck up courage to ask about his Washington trip, if he seemed like talking.

When Prentiss had first arrived at the BAU, she had found the gentle Reid a nice person to be around and thought Morgan to be the annoying one, with his 'He-man' and 'god's gift to women' attitudes. As they all adjusted to each other, she realised that they all had strong personalities, but they still managed to respect each other and work together. It was so different to her time in the Mid-West; all the young agents were trying to be seen by superiors because they didn't want to languish there. They all wanted to be elsewhere; a transfer to New York or the ultimate, Quantico, were the goals for the high-flying agent. She had always been ambitious, the whole family were; her mother had made it quite clear to her, at an early age, that she was expected to excel in everything she did. Emily was the classic over achiever with pushy parents; the only way she felt she had her parents love was to be the best in everything she did. Unfortunately, there were times now when she wondered if the BAU should have been her goal on the FBI career ladder. She was not the best amongst them and knew that she had a lot to learn; it had been a long time since she had to work this hard and was the effort worth it…

Reid and Prentiss had worked in a professional manner towards one another, but it was hardly friendly and Reid seemed to be pre-occupied with his own thoughts as she drove him around. His brilliant mind made leaps with the scraps of evidence and had helped the team to draw the conclusion that the unsub was behaving like a modern day, Jack the Ripper. Another body was discovered and the team produced its first working profile of the unsub, who was stalking his male victims in the French Quarter. Later, in the early evening, Reid took time away from the investigation to meet up with his old friend.

People in the French Quarter were getting nervous with the recent killings mirroring previous ones before Katerina struck. The locals had hoped that the previous time of uncertainty had ended with the murderer being killed in the great storm, but drunken men usually forgot their good intentions to be careful and stay with their friends.

Off the main streets were numerous alley ways that ran into one another, they could be lonely even during the daytime, and Ethan Hyde walked warily as he made his way to the bar where he worked. The call from Spencer Reid had been totally unexpected, but he was curious to meet his old rival. They had attended different schools. Ethan's parents had sent him to a private school where he had been pampered in many ways because of his academic abilities. But he had been brought into contact with a scrawny looking kid, almost 4 years younger than himself, because of the city wide 'gifted children's projects'. Graduating from his school at 16, Ethan had drifted for a couple of years playing the piano, and travelling round to experience some of the country with his older cousin, before going off to Cornell. He still kept in touch with Reid, via e- mail, but this was the first time he was going to see him since he had dropped out of the FBI academy after the first day. Five years, he thought, would they still recognise each other?

Ethan turned round a corner and walked into a man…His heart leapt in fear at a possible mugger, but then he realised the young man had made no aggressive move towards him…rather he was smiling…

"Jeez! Reid, you scared me," Ethan confessed, as he could still feel his heart pounding too quickly in his chest. He appraised his friend, noting that he still favoured brown; a deep brown shirt with a white stripe that went well with his brown trousers. Reid had always had his own style and it was comforting to Ethan that he still wore odd socks. Ethan liked that Reid had not been contaminated by the FBI dress code to give up his quirkiness, and the hair was easily as long as his own.

"Always been one step ahead of you, man," the smiling Reid replied, looking genuinely pleased to see the older man.

"Yeah…whatever helps you sleep at night, I'm glad you called," Ethan said picking up Reid's warmth, but he was concerned by the obviously too thin man before him.

"Me too,"

"Let's get a drink," Ethan invited, and Spencer thought that he was still probably drinking Jack Daniels and wondered if he had shares in the company.

At the bar Ethan ordered his whisky while Spencer asked for the gentler brandy, reminding himself to make it last. They began to talk at the almost empty bar while waiting for their drinks.

To Reid's annoyance his cell phone rang. He checked the caller I.D. and decided the last person he wanted to speak to was Prentiss, so he ignored the call. Ethan was fascinated, he knew Reid was in the city investigating the recent murders and wondered whom the call was from.

"So are you gonna ask me the question?" Ethan said.

Spencer feigned ignorance, "What question?"

"Come on, man…it's me here. We haven't talked to each other in years…I know it's why you called me. Ask the question?"

"Why did you quit after only one day of FBI training?" asked Reid, he had his own ideas but he wanted to hear what Ethan had to say. Reid had come back from the evening meal to find that Ethan had packed his bags and left without leaving a note. It was then a year before he had received a one line e-mail from the man before him.

"Well, I'm sure you've considered the evidence, analysed the signs…What's your theory?"

Reid looked his friend in the eye and said thoughtfully, "You were battling your own demons…you didn't have the time to analyse someone elses."

Ethan gave his friend a rueful smile, "Not bad…Not bad…Those days I did prefer Jack Daniels to Jeff Dahmer…They both weigh heavy on your soul eventually."

Reid's phone rang again and he glanced apologetically at Ethan before checking the I.D, but again chose to ignore Prentiss.

Ethan eyed the cell phone, "The bat phone," he said with a touch of sarcasm.

Reid chose to ignore him and asked the question he really wanted answering, "Let me ask you this, Ethan, do you ever regret it?"

"You know, I may not be changing the world, but…my music makes me happy…It doesn't take a profiler to see that you're not."

Their drinks arrived and Ethan walked away to find a table, while Reid paid the bartender before picking up his brandy to follow his friend.

Reid sat down and took a sip of the brandy, "It's not easy…and it's not…I don't think you'd believe some of the things that I've seen," he said, wanting to dispel any lingering belief that his work was glamorous. Perhaps when they had been students they thought that they could use their psychology in law enforcement for the greater good, but the real world of profiling was ugly and unsettling and very demanding on any agent's life style.

"John Coltrane…he was a genius too. Died of cancer, but most people think it was the booze and heroin that did him in." Ethan replied, taking a sip of his whisky.

"What are you trying to say?" asked Reid not in the mood for word games and psychological innuendo. He sat defensively, his arms folded across his body, in the comfortable armchair.

"You look like hell," Ethan bluntly replied.

"I'm fine," Spencer quickly answered and thought Ethan should have seen him a few months ago.

"Come on, man, I'm a jazz musician in New Orleans, I know what it looks like when someone's not well. This may be the one time I can tell you something that you don't already know," Ethan briefly paused and with his free index finger indicated Spencer's glass, "That might help you forget, but it won't make it go away…and if I can tell…" Ethan shook his head sadly, "You're surrounded by some of the best minds in the world, and if you think they don't notice…well, for a genius, that's just dumb."

"Those so called best minds have not helped me one bit despite the Post Traumatic Stress I've been experiencing…"Spencer said bitterly, and Ethan suddenly became alert at the admission.

"What the hell happened to you?" the older man asked, and wondered what sort of place the famous BAU was to allow one of its agents to feel so isolated.

For the next hour, Reid told Ethan about what had happened, including his stay at the Clinic and his subsequent return to the BAU, and his own self doubt about his place on the team. Ethan sat and listened. He was appalled by the lack of support from the team's psych; the man had such a great reputation that Ethan thought his skills would also be naturally turned towards the team.

"He has his own problems, Ethan…I've deliberately refused to answer my phone tonight because I needed to talk to someone outside the Bureau who had done something else with his life. The Unit Chief will have to note that in his report, but I also did it so Gideon would have to make the effort to speak to me…Hotch would require him to because he's supposed to be monitoring my return."

"Jeez Spencer…you could be on report for this…"

"Yeah, but then I can also reveal how I've not been monitored properly on my return to any disciplinary board as my defence."

Ethan shook his head, he was glad he had made his decision to escape the organisation when he did because he didn't think he could have put up with the discipline involved. But what really troubled him was if the team could behave like they had to a nice man like Reid, who was sensitive and thoughtful, what would they have done with his own more ' in your face' rebellious character?

"But you say you've got this lady now?"

"The one good thing to really come out of the whole experience is Jo," Spencer simply stated, "She's moving in officially when she fills in the forms…"

"Right, but she's there unofficially while she does it!"

"You've got it!" said Spencer with a grin, "So you got anyone trying to keep you on the straight and narrow?"

"Man…I need my space. A couple of years ago, there was Terri…but then she gets pregnant and I wasn't in to all that family stuff. It needs commitment and I'm not there at the moment…I just want the commitment to my music without complications of a 'relationship'" Ethan punctuated the last word with his fingers, "I told her I'd pay for an abortion but she had the kid. I don't see her that often, but I do play some maintenance to her…" Ethan said bitterly and Spencer felt sad at his attitude.

"What's your daughter's name?" he asked, wanting at least to make a father remember that he had played a part in her conception.

"Poppy," Ethan said coldly, "And I don't have any photos!"

"I wasn't going to ask that," Spencer said, but felt that perhaps the evening was turning a little cold now they had touched upon this very private subject. He didn't want to loose Ethan's friendship and changed the subject, "So do you just play at this bar?"

"Yeah, start around 8.30 in the evening and usually finish just after midnight or later, if some of the guys come and join in for a session…The pays good because I've proved myself reliable…It's good, I can basically do my own thing…."

The two friends smiled knowing that Ethan would probably never have lasted the rigidity of the Bureau's work ethic. Reid drank a second brandy slowly and listened to his friend play the keyboard for a couple of hours before going back to the hotel. J.J. asked where he'd been because Morgan and Prentiss had tried to contact him to go with them to Galveston, to follow up a possible line of enquiry. He had merely said he'd been with an old friend and hadn't received the call because of poor reception.

J.J. went to her own room feeling uneasy because Reid had been drinking. He wasn't drunk, or even slightly tipsy, but it was disturbing because she had never smelt alcohol on his breath before during a case.

Reid had expected Hotch or Gideon to come to his room to demand an explanation for missing the plane, but neither came. At midnight, he rang Jo to tell her what had happened and to just hear her voice before he tried to sleep. He was upset about Ethan's attitude towards his child. It reminded him of hearing his parents argue about him and how his mother could be so cutting with her words…It was always his father's fault…she hadn't wanted him. It was a strange relationship they had and he hoped that he would not take the scars of his own childhood into his relationship with Jo.

Spencer thought about the time in the Clinic when Arthur had asked him about the kind of partner he wanted…Jo seemed to fit the profile he had given. She was well educated and they had shared interests and some different ones. Jo had her own successful career so she would not feel over shadowed by his work, and it allowed her to keep her own identity within the relationship. She was also from a stable and supportive family who didn't live too far away…Spencer fell asleep thinking about the fact that he had something Ethan would never appreciate.

The next morning he knew he would have to face his two colleagues and it wasn't long before he found them in the Police conference room. He had grabbed his coffee hoping that it would help him to wake up and he walked through the door…

"Hey you guys are back from Galveston," he tried to make it sound casual, but he knew he was failing.

"First light, where were you?" asked Morgan bluntly. It was obvious that he was pissed off with Reid. Prentiss sat at the table and let Morgan tackle the younger agent over his non-appearance.

"I was out with a friend, I already told you…" Reid began, well it was true because Morgan had seen him leaving the hotel and asked where he was going.

"Prentiss called you 4 times," Morgan irritably stated.

"I didn't have any cell phone reception, so I didn't get your message until late…"

"Right…" Prentiss replied, as she rolled her eyes to emphasise her disbelief.

Reid decided to get back on to the safer ground of the actual case, "What's going on?"

"Our unsub's a woman," Morgan stated and was about to continue when Hotch walked in, looking all business.

"We just found another body in the Quarter," he briskly announced, and the warring agents turned their full attentions to the case.

Later, after reviewing all the latest evidence, they decided that it was best to be out on the streets in pairs, hoping to pick out the unsub in the French Quarter amongst the happy drinkers of that evening.

Prentiss found herself working with Gideon; at least she thought to herself, she didn't have to work again with Reid. But she reflected on how worried Morgan had been on the plane over Reid's uncharacteristic behaviour. Reid was always reliable, but he had been late getting in to the briefing on the Houston case and now Morgan was convinced he'd deliberately not answered his cell.

Working alongside Gideon could sometimes be quite enlightening, but at others he would seem utterly aloof and she feared to speak in case she broke his train of thought. It hadn't always been like that. When she had first arrived, he was quietly weighing her up as a new team member and she hoped she had proved herself in the field by now. But then he seemed to withdraw into himself after Reid was on sick leave, and the team had been told that the young agent just wanted to get well enough to come back, but in the meantime didn't want any visits.

The 5 months without Reid had been strange. The youngest of them may be the quietest of the group but his absence was obvious, and they had felt as if a link was missing in the closely-knit team. Reid did look a lot better now than while on the Houston case and she thought that she'd not seen before some of the clothes he was now wearing. Perhaps he had been shopping up in Washington State, but he still favoured browns and greens with the occasional dark grey or petrol blue. Suddenly she realised that Gideon was talking…

"Did you give that newest letter to Reid? He knows the Ripper case inside out…he might see something I'm missing…" Gideon said, feeling that he had to find time to talk to Reid, when they had finished this case, because Hotch had mentioned his non-appearance for the plane. Gideon turned to Prentiss wanting her answer.

She looked unsure, "I don't think...uh…" Prentiss fell silent under the scrutiny of Gideon's dark unreadable eyes.

"What is it?" he demanded irritably, but Prentiss didn't know how to put it into words without also including a criticism of the man before her.

"Come on…You think I'm not aware somethings going on with him?" he tartly replied, and then turned briskly away from her and headed into the crowd leaving Prentiss to silently follow.

Prentiss just didn't know how to cope with this famous senior agent. She felt that something wasn't right with this team and it centred on Gideon and Reid, but she was the newest member and still didn't feel totally at ease with them.

Meanwhile in another part of the crowded French Quarter, Morgan and Reid were having their own uncomfortable conversation. Morgan, for all his faults, was straight forward in tackling the issue on his mind.

"You gonna tell me why you missed that flight to Galveston?" he pressed, with a tenacity that Reid had come to respect over the time that they had worked together.

Reid was standing in a classic defensive posture with his arms folded into his body, looking out into the crowds for a lone woman seeking her next prey.

"I've already told you…there was no cell reception," but Reid knew that this man didn't believe him. However, this was not the time to try and explain how he saw the team from the outside and how he didn't feel part of it any more.

"Right!" Morgan retorted.

"What?" Reid stood up to the tone in Morgan's voice.

"I mean, anytime you want to come up with a better answer, I'm standing right here," Morgan threw down the gauntlet, but Reid was watching the crowds.

"Dark curls, 3 o'clock," Reid answered, every inch on the case.

"I got it,"

The two men ploughed into the crowd and followed the suspect but it was a false alarm, both men were partly relieved that they were wrong; an honest caring woman for a change and it was a reminder that not all the world was bad around them. But the moment for private conversations was lost and the two men didn't allude again to Reid's non-appearance.

Another evening meant that the team returned to their hotel rooms exhausted and tried to get in some sleep. Reid had rung his Jo, like he had promised her, and just hearing Jo's voice helped Spencer face the night before him. However, he knew he had thrown down his own gauntlet to the senior team members that they could not ignore.

The next morning they were greeted with the news of another murder and the team gathered at the scene. It was however to prove useful as the case moved along with Reid finding another message and speculated, through its analysis, the possibility that the unsub was herself a rape victim in some way connected to the elder Lamontagne. The son recalled that his father had worked sex crimes 9 years before and there had been a falling out with his partner from that time. But then Detective Lamontagne's brain made the connection that they needed, and he finally understood the clue his father had left him from the grave. Lamontagne recognised the stamp on the victim's hand; Jones was a bar that had been re-named Ma Cherie. The team was once more racing along making connections to try and stop another murder. There was never any time for personal moments when a case took off with momentum, and any animosity that existed been between Reid and Prentiss or Morgan was gone, as everyone worked together in a concentrated effort as a team.

They had found Sarah Danlin and saved her intended victim. The team was impressed with the actions of Detective Lamontagne who had intervened in the stand off and gently disarmed the obviously sick woman, and treated her with compassion.

The team went their separate ways after the necessary winding up paperwork had been completed. Spencer Reid had gone back to the bar because he wanted to hear Ethan play once more, before flying back to Virginia the next morning. He sat in a comfortable armchair, an untouched brandy on the table before him, thinking over the case and his present predicament. Hotch had asked him where he had been when Prentiss tried to contact him and had accepted his reply. It was not a lie, but he still implied that he'd had poor cell reception. Hotch seemed prepared to accept his explanation, probably because he had never behaved like that before. It didn't seem that his behaviour would be written up as a disciplinary matter. Reid was being given the benefit of the doubt but he didn't feel comfortable in his deception with Hotch. The young man heard someone sit in the empty chair beside him and looked across.

"How did you find me?" he asked Gideon, observing how relaxed he looked in his old jeans and blue over shirt. Reid thought that he really ought to be lecturing on some university campus.

"You're not all that hard to profile," the older man said gently, and turned his attention to the music. Reid observed him clinically and his inner self said in his mind, '…really Gideon, if I'm so easy to profile then why didn't you help me, like Don and Arthur did while at the Clinic?'

Gideon broke through his thoughts.

"Your friend is good."

Spencer nodded; he had not lied about his friend, only the phone reception. Reid wondered if Gideon was finally trying to reach out to him, perhaps he should make the effort and give him an opening.

"I missed that plane on purpose," he admitted, and his heart seemed to stop wondering how Gideon would take it from there.

"I know," Gideon calmly replied, and Reid wondered why he had not tried to help him on the previous cases if he knew he was struggling. He decided to state clearly what was wrong so Gideon would not be able to deny the situation.

"I'm struggling," Spencer stated, and felt as if his barriers were going to tumble down, like the walls of Jericho, to this man. But then another, stronger Reid asserted himself…he would not break down in front of this man because he didn't want him to have that satisfaction; part of him did not trust Gideon anymore with his psychological well being. Spencer Reid knew that he had been to hell and back, and the return had been without Gideon's help. However, during that journey, he had discovered more about his own strengths and those were now needed to help him through this conversation. He observed his former mentor and saw a kindness in his dark eyes, but then resented the look because Gideon had been avoiding this confrontation too long.

"Well…anybody who's been through what you've been through recently…would," Gideon's voice replied and tried to soothe. But this Reid was not the pre- Hankel one, who would have felt honoured to have this man's wisdom turned his way.

Reid still thought that Gideon deserved to understand something of his actions, "This was all I was groomed for…I never was…I never even considered another option," he said. Reid knew that he had fallen under Donovan's spell, at Princeton. Donovan had seen his potential for the Bureau and Reid had never seriously considered doing other things until he was at the Clinic, and now with Jo…she was another factor to be added into the equation.

"Now your questioning whether or not you're strong enough to be here?" Gideon said with his best psychologist manner, once more trying to be the old mentor.

"Yeah," agreed Spencer, but inwardly he thought, 'You bastard, you knew I was struggling but you left it until I could be hauled before a disciplinary board to answer for not taking an order. What the hell is going on in your mind to put other agents at risk? The Mental Health team is right, you really do need help before someone gets hurt.'

Gideon had begun speaking again and Spencer gave him his attention.

"I've been playing at this job, in one way or another, for almost 30 years. I've felt lost. I've felt great…I've felt scared, sick…insane…I don't know…I guess the day this job stops gnawing at your soul and your hands…your hands stop feeling cold…maybe that's the time to leave." Gideon softly said, and Spencer thought the older man was trying not to let the tears fall because his eyes looked fall of unshed emotion.

Spencer felt a detachment, clinically observing as a psychologist himself. Reid thought that Gideon had not addressed the issues involved and wondered where all this psycho-babble was coming from because it was sheer nonsense from a man who was an experienced senior psychologist himself. What's more Gideon had experienced PTSD himself but he was not using that experience to help the man before him, unlike Max…Max Pentall had told both Arthur and Don to break the rules to save him, Spencer. They had really cared and opened up to him as a fellow psychologist and were still there when he needed them. When had Gideon stopped caring about him as a team member? Even Arnie had given him his personal number because he was unsure that Gideon would support him.

Reid forced his barriers into place, "I guess I just needed to try to figure out if I could step away from this job." He found himself saying, but that was only half of what was really happening to him. His inner voice asked, 'Where had been your re-assurance when I had experienced the flash backs…you haven't even asked me what I did while I was on sick leave?'

"And?" Gideon pressed, wanting to know what this young agent was thinking.

"I'll never miss another plane again," Reid answered, but inwardly he knew he had to make an important call when he got back to the hotel. Reid turned away and concentrated on his friend's performance because he was so disappointed with his former mentor and hoped the music would act as a solace.

Gideon watched the agent before him and wondered when did Reid become a stranger to him. He could not penetrate the barriers he had just erected, but he also knew that he was basically a truthful man and he wouldn't ignore an order again. He turned back to the stage and listened to the gifted keyboard player and wondered what the two had talked about. Gideon had Garcia look up the details of Ethan Hyde before he had set out to find Reid, so he had not been truthful to the young man. The truth was that the Dr. Spencer Reid who had returned from sick leave was a stranger; an older and scarred man, who was still gifted and he hoped would remain with the BAU.

Gideon glanced across at him; the new clothes, he sometimes wore, reflected the mature professional man he now was. The slate grey shirt, with the petrol blue tiny check, suited him, but he still favoured browns and greens. He wondered absently, if this new confidence, in Reid's self-expression, would also manifest itself in a change of car; Gideon was amazed that Reid's old one was still on the road. Gideon's mind roamed further afield and wondered what sort of clothes his own son wore now. Perhaps he ought to make the effort to visit and see for himself.

Ethan took a break and came over to where the two men were sitting. He knew who Gideon was by sight, but Reid formally introduced them. They chatted politely for a few minutes but then Gideon excused himself, leaving the two men to say their own goodbyes.

"What the hell is wrong with that guy?" Ethan asked, when Gideon had left the bar.

"That's not for me to speculate, like I said earlier, I think he has his own problems" Reid answered carefully. It was one thing to recount his treatment over the past few months but he was not going to give his professional opinion to Ethan, who was not a qualified psych, and he didn't know how much he could be trusted in certain matters.

"Well, you just take care of yourself because the Bureau isn't the be all and end all of this world. You can do a lot of things, so keep your mind open to other possibilities," Ethan advised.

"I intend to do just that," Reid assured with a smile, "I'm glad I contacted you, try to keep in touch with e-mail. If you're ever in Virginia, I'll introduce you to Jo…she can cook!"

"Now that's an incentive few men can refuse," Ethan replied playfully, "Thanks, I'll try to answer my mail but you know me…my music comes first."

Reid made his way back to the hotel soon after, but after showering he picked up his cell and punched in the number he had never used.

"Hello Spencer, is everything all right?" the alert voice asked.

"Max, I …I forced the issue, I deliberately didn't answer my phone…." began Reid, and he told Max the truth of the past few days and his unsatisfactory talk with Gideon that evening.

"But you feel all right about things," Max carefully asked, wishing he was not so far away, but his mind was all ready preparing the next moves.

"Yeah, I'm coping Max, I've not had any flashbacks on this case and no feelings of panic. I think I behaved more like my old self as a profiler; I mean I did my job properly …except for the deception over the cell. I've even slept better, but I've been calling Jo before I go to sleep…"

"Good, so she's back then,"

"Oh yeah," and Reid couldn't keep the happiness out of his voice, "You know, she came back via Quebec, first class as well!"

"She's very special, Spencer, and Jo obviously thought the extra expense was worthwhile. But I'm glad she's back, so you have someone to go home to. Does anyone on the team know about her?"

"No, she's supposed to be filling out the forms so I can give them to Hotch, but I've not said anything yet. The case has been pretty intense as usual and I don't think I'm in Hotch's good books at the moment… I think I only escaped because I've never avoided work before."

"Don't worry about it, I'll sort that out…our problem is to help Gideon."

"What if he refuses help?" asked Spencer, aware that his mentor was not an easy person when it came to crossing his professional judgement. He also tended to treasure his privacy so any counselling, that the Mental Health team might offer, could be refused.

"Spencer, I'm going to have you texted for an extra drug test for as soon as you're back at Quantico. After the test you're to come immediately to my office, as I've to take a formal statement from you to go alongside all the other evidence we have. I'll then explain further how we'll handle things, but you mustn't worry about this procedure. We're all just trying to help Gideon to keep his job in the long run. If he refuses our help, then he'll probably be offered teaching… but he certainly will not be out in the field without help."

"Yeah…I understand, I just wish it wasn't me who has to do this…"

"Spencer, I'm glad it has been you because you've had all the contact numbers…What if it had been one of the other members of the team?" countered Max, understanding how difficult this next step would seem for the once protégé to act against his mentor.

"I know…that's why I know I must follow this through," Spencer said sadly.

"You're helping him, Spencer, and you're acting like the responsible psych you are… That's why the Mental Health team would like you to join them if you ever wanted a transfer. I'll try to get your group dynamics course fixed for next week, so you won't be in the BAU building as things begin to unfold…all right?"

"Yeah, that would be good…I'd like to finish the advanced training, then I could take some of the strain off Gideon," Spencer replied thoughtfully.

"O.K then, everything is settled for tomorrow, I'll leave you to get some sleep, or are you calling Jo next?" Max asked, hoping that he would be calling the girlfriend.

"Oh, I've to call Jo, or I'll really be in trouble when I get home."

Max chuckled, "Goodnight, Spencer, and I'll see you tomorrow."

Spencer rang Jo immediately after and told her briefly the latest development with the team. She assured him that she would home by 5 o'clock tomorrow as she and her Uncle Jeff were viewing a possible new purchase, of an old apartment block, in need of renovation. It was in Alexandria so it would be a good development for the Washington commuter. He fell asleep but he awoke a couple of times, not from nightmares but just a troubled feeling that he wanted the next 24 hours over as soon as possible.

Reid had been late down to breakfast because of sleeping though his actual alarm. He grabbed a quick coffee and bagel to eat and suddenly they were all on the plane, relieved to be going home. He sat alone, deliberately wanting to be with his own thoughts. Prentiss and Morgan sat together chatting away about what they were hoping to be doing the coming weekend. J.J. sat on her own with a magazine, which he didn't think she was really concentrating upon. Reid personally thought she was going to miss William Lamontagne, as they seemed to get on well together. Hotch was writing reports and at another table, Gideon seemed to be writing his own. Reid closed his eyes wondering what it was going to be like making a statement for the Mental Health team, but he could only tell what had happened to him. He heard his cell sound; it was a text calling him to attend a drug test when the plane landed…just as Max had ordered. Another cell sounded and he saw Hotch read the text on his cell screen, he caught Reid's look, and gave a tiny nod of his head; Hotch was always informed of his summons for drugs' tests. Reid closed his eyes and just wanted the day over and done with.

End of Chapter 18.


	19. Chapter 19

The In-Between Times: Chapter 19 

**by Helena Fallon.**

The plane landed and Spencer lingered to be the final agent off and the last to collect his car. Instead of driving back to the BAU, he headed off to another car park at Quantico, which served the labs, in order to have his drug test. He had got to know several of the technicians working there by now; they were all very discreet and had to sign a 'secrecy clause' in their contract. He went into the secure lab area for personnel testing and was soon in the comfortable waiting room, where Spencer helped himself to a cup of coffee from the percolator this department provided for the comfort of its staff and clientele.

"Hi there, Spencer," said a familiar voice and Reid looked up from the 'Scientific American' journal he'd been browsing.

"Hey, Claude, how's your elbow?" Reid asked, eyeing the middle-aged athletic looking Negro in his white lab coat.

"It's a lot better but it's stopped me playing my golf!" he complained, but there was also a twinkle in his eyes, "My Anita expects me to drive the kids around a lot more to their sports and social gatherings, where as before, I'd been able to slip away to an arranged round of golf."

Spencer smiled and he put down the magazine knowing that there would be the normal procedure of form filling before the trip to the bathroom and the required urine sample. Reid followed Claude through to a private room with a table and chairs and a small bathroom off to the right. Victor, another technician, came to join them as the witness to the proceedings.

Spencer sat at the table filling in the form, most of which just meant ticking boxes, but if he'd had any medication over the previous 72 hours the client had to specify, even if it had been over the counter cough sweets. Then there was a section that dealt with any alcoholic drinks. Spencer noted the one measure of brandy he had drunk the previous evening, while he listened to Ethan play, and he even logged the two measures he'd drunk when he'd first met up with his old friend…just to be on the safe side. The tests were very sensitive and it was best to include things just over the 72 hours limit aswell, just in case it picked up any traces, although he thought the alcohol would have been well out of his system by then. There was another section that dealt with prescribed medicine taken, or administered, during the past 4 weeks and a self- administered part to cover such things as aspirin and other over the counter drugs like cold and 'flu remedies. Spencer entered his maximum dose of headache pills he had taken on the first day in Houston and remembered how he had learnt the hard way about Alan and his measures of brandy.

He went to the bathroom with the measuring glass to provide the sample and then Victor divided it between two bottles, which were then clearly labelled with his unit number and sealed. The three of them signed the paperwork to say that they agreed that the procedure had followed protocol and Spencer left to go to the Mental Health department as ordered. Spencer trusted the procedure but the two samples were important just in case there was any doubt over the first, then the second one would also be tested. It was similar to the drug testing used in sport and the tight testing procedures used in the labs were well respected. All FBI personnel had to have statutory tests but Spencer's exposure to dilaudid meant he had to have far more random tests until the Bureau were convinced of his clean status. The lab had told him that it would probably be a year of random tests, alongside the statutory ones. Since leaving the Clinic, Reid had got use to his private life also being interrupted by the technicians arriving on his doorstep at all hours. He was embarrassed when it had happened the first time Jo had been with him, but over the weeks she also cheerfully struck up at rapport with these people who were only doing their jobs…even if it was 5:30 a.m. and they had disturbed their sleep.

The Mental Health department was in a different building complex again to the labs, but he left his car where it was parked. Spencer didn't like what he was going to be doing next but his conscience couldn't let Gideon continue in his present fashion. He was still a very good profiler, working hard on cases, but he was failing to do certain other aspects of his job description as a senior agent with psychology training. Reid joined a full elevator to the 4th floor and turned to the left when the doors opened. It was a pleasant magnolia coloured corridor with potted plants to try and make the windowless walkway user friendly. There were also the occasional modern paintings; sometimes these were of an abstract subject while others were more traditional with a landscape or floral still life.

Spencer passed Don's closed door, and later Arthur's, as he proceeded down the long internal corridor towards the lair of Dr. Max Pentall. He had never been this far down into the inter sanctum of the Mental Health team before, this was where the senior personnel had their offices, the more junior staff were on the floor below along with extra consulting rooms. Reid went along reading the name plaques and realised he had met a fair number of them during his 5 years at the Bureau. Suddenly, to his left, he saw an open door and noticed Max sitting at his computer typing. He mentally stilled himself and knocked on the door.

Max immediately looked up and smiled warmly, "Spencer, come in…do you want to help yourself to coffee?" he invited, indicating with his head the coffee-machine over on the side and a small kitchen area with a fridge.

Spencer nodded and poured himself a large mug and spooned in an ample amount of sugar. By the time he had turned round, Max had logged off and had come to sit on the comfortable dark chestnut leather chair so as not to have the desk between them as a barrier. Spencer mentally noted that the man was trying to make him feel at ease and he was grateful for the thoughtfulness. Reid went and sat in the other matching leather chair and put his mug down on the light oak coffee table to let it cool a little. It was a soothing room with pale blue walls, the colour of an early Spring morning, and there were Mediterranean blue blinds at the window; Spencer thought that he could work in an office like this one. There were a couple of abstract pictures, but he didn't recognise the artist, and felt it was not the time to go and examine them further. But Reid also noticed that Max had no personal photographs or diplomas displayed; Max was a private man and kept his home life out of his office and, as the Head of this department, he obviously didn't feel it necessary to display his qualifications.

"How are you feeling today?" Max asked, once he had sat down. He cast his professional eye over the young profiler; Reid looked smart in his dark brown wool jacket, a plain soft sage shirt under a dark brown knitted vest. He wore a very dark green tie, with a tiny cream diamond motif, that was loosely knotted in his usual casual style and it all toned in well with the pale stone coloured trousers. Max was pleased that his appearance was tidy, Hotchner had noted, in his team report, that at the start of the Houston case he had looked a little dishevelled and the worst for wear. However, later Hotchner also added that the agent had explained, on the plane home, how he'd only had 4 hours sleep before being called in. Hotch conceded that a long drive and a slight hangover probably contributed to his wasted look.

Spencer shrugged his shoulders, "I'd be lying if I said great, but I brought things to a head because I thought Gideon was never going to confront me about my return and the after effects of Georgia," Reid replied sadly, and reached down to pick up the mug of coffee to act as a form of comfort.

Max nodded and was pleased that the agent had been honest. Max knew that for the BAU, there was a festering boil that had to be lanced in order that the healing could begin for Gideon and continue for Reid.

"I've arranged for the second part of your advanced training for next week. The 'advanced group dynamics monitoring' course is in-house but there will be a few outsiders on it…a marine and two airmen, so you will be able to have some different perspectives on the training films you will be evaluating. Arnie would like to see you this afternoon so you don't even have to go back to the BAU. The training team seem genuinely pleased to have you back with them so I hope it will help to ease the work we have to attend to before then."

"Thank you…they're a very friendly group down in the training department," Spencer agreed, and had a flood of good memories come to mind concerning the time he was with them for the 'psych evaluation' training. However, Spencer just felt uneasy and spoke openly to Max, "What's going to happen now, I've never been in this situation before?"

"I hope, you'll never face it again. None of us want to place before a fellow psychologist, evidence that he's not performing his duties properly… Hopefully, we've caught this in time to save Gideon's career and enable us to help him reach retirement with his reputation intact."

Spencer listened and realised that Max Pentall was saddened by the professional steps that he had to take against another psychologist. It gave Spencer courage to see that Max was not the enemy of Gideon that some might think.

"We will go to another room where the interview will be taped. There will be several senior members of the Mental Health team, who will asked you questions, and all you have to do is answer those questions honestly. The procedure also gives you the opportunity to express your own opinions about the situation you found yourself in. We think it's more comprehensive that just asking a person to write a formal statement. This will then be used, alongside other evidence we have gathered from Gideon's own reports, to make him realise that he has been failing the team. We'll try to persuade Gideon to let us help him deal with the problem, but we'll offer him support with whatever decision he makes. Gideon doesn't have that long before retirement and I want him to feel we appreciate all the successes he has had because he's still getting results out in the field."

"Good…that's important, the team still needs him there for his vast experience but…"

"You feel like a traitor," Max stated simply.

"Yeah…on one level, but then I know he should have done things differently…"

"We all understand, Spencer, and that's why we're being supportive and are trying to keep you out of the BAU while we try and sort this out."

"Will Hotch be there?" Spencer suddenly asked, "I mean, does he know that this is going to happen to Gideon?"

"No, he doesn't know and you must not say anything either. On Monday, Gideon will be told that he's being called before the Mental Health Services board to explain certain decisions he has made. This happens periodically to all psychs. We ask a psych to justify decisions taken over a specific period of time and it acts as a form of internal assessment by your peers. If you continue to do psych evaluations, you'll face such a procedure eventually yourself, but it's usually fairly routine and nothing to worry about if you're confident about the decisions you've made. However, Gideon will not realise that this is going to take a more serious turn, as he will not know that we've been supporting you since your return and the statement you're about to give. We senior psychs, as a team, will listen to what you have to say and it'll help them understand how you felt at the time. You see it's a team decision and we try and make it as fair as possible. Hotch, as the Unit Chief, will be asked to be there…Strauss has the option of attending as an observer, but this is really Gideon being judged by his fellow psychs. This will all happen in the afternoon; we've provisionally cleared our work from 2 p.m., but your imput will be over once you've completed your informal statement."

Reid nodded, but he felt his stomach begin to tie in knots.

"I don't suppose you want lunch yet, do you?" Max asked with compassion.

"No, I'd rather get it over and done with," the young agent conceded.

"Yes, we thought that might be the case and we've everything set up for 12:15, in the conference room on this floor. Is there anything else you'd like to ask me?"

Spencer shook his head and finished the coffee.

The actual interview form of statement went far better than Spencer could have imagined; he was pleased that both Arthur and Don were among the 4 senior team members asking him questions. Max did not take part, but sat quietly in the room listening and let his colleagues gather the information they needed. Rosa, a white haired Latino and the only woman, was very interested in Reid's interaction with Elle Greenaway. Erroll, the small and dapper Negro, was particularly interested in Spencer's own reaction to the recent Houston case. Spencer had been totally open about his own failings, talking about his sharpness towards Prentiss and his subsequent regret and wish to apologise and explain, only to have those good intentions sidelined, when she had contributed her unasked for opinion in a private conversation.

Two hours quickly passed, but despite the initial apprehension, Spencer could not actually say it was particularly slanted in anyway to destroy Gideon's credibility. The team had gone out of their way to encourage Reid to give his own opinion on why perhaps Gideon had acted in a certain way and that made him feel a lot better about the procedure.

Afterwards, the team all thanked him for his honesty and assured him that this was all to help their colleague. Spencer just silently hoped that Gideon would see it all like that. Arthur and Don took him to a late lunch to help him unwind. They talked about Jo and her trip to Europe and her moans about the dreaded form filling. It was almost 4 o'clock when he turned up in the training department and was greeted with smiling faces…from Sharon, the Receptionist, to Arnie himself and the rest of his team.

Meanwhile, back in the BAU, Reid's colleagues were making their own arrangements to discuss recent events.

It had started when Morgan quickly noticed that Reid had not returned from the airfield like the rest of them.

"Hey, anyone seen Reid?" he asked the BAU's bullpen. Hotch had heard his voice through his open door. He got up and when to the walkway to look down on the area.

"It's Ok Morgan, I know where he is," Hotch announced, from his commanding position, and then walked straight back into his office. Several agents looked at Morgan and shrugged, implying that obviously the boss knew what was going on so why was Morgan making a fuss.

Morgan sat down at his desk and looked over to Prentiss, who looked as puzzled as Morgan.

"You get the impression that somethings going on and we're out the loop?" Morgan asked softly.

Prentiss opened her big expressive eyes, "Right," she muttered, trying to look as if she was busy reading all the internal mail that had taken over her desk while on the New Orleans case.

"I don't like it, do you fancy a quick meal after work to discuss theories?" Morgan asked.

"You know somewhere quiet? Or shall we get a take away and go to a mutual apartment? Mine's a bit far with all the traffic, but if no one else is offering, we can use it," Emily whispered.

"I'll go ask the Oracle; she lives the closest. You go and ask J.J. if she wants to join us." Morgan said, rising from his chair and disappearing towards Garcia's lair.

By 6.p.m. the 4 agents were seated in Garcia's colourful apartment sharing an assortment of Chinese dishes.

"Look, Reid says nothing to us…gets off the plane and we don't see him for the rest of the day," Morgan stated, trying to understand the missing agent's behaviour.

"Look, guys," said J.J. evenly, "We're going round in circles…Hotch was not upset by his absence, so he obviously knew where he was…"

"So why all the secrecy?" countered Morgan.

"Well, did you go and ask Hotch?" asked J.J.

"No…but then his manner when he spoke to the bullpen wasn't exactly inviting…You know…it seemed secretive, as if he was trying to hide something," replied Morgan.

"Well, I know that our 'Little One' is on an advanced training course next week…so perhaps Hotch was annoyed about that. I mean he got sent to Washington State not so long ago…He seems to spend a lot of time out recently," said Garcia, who was beginning to feel uneasy about it herself.

"We could always call Reid and ask him where he was…you know, be honest and say we missed him," suggested Prentiss, "Only, I'll not volunteer because he doesn't take calls from me."

"Good idea, right, so who's going to do it …someone he'd not refuse to take a call from…" said Morgan.

Three pairs of eyes stared at the slender blond, "You think he'll take a call from me?" J.J. voiced her doubt.

"Well…he likes you," Garcia said enthusiastically, "He's always had a soft spot for you."

The young woman shook her head, but reached for her coat and retrieved her cell. She was to try 5 times over the next hour, but the missing agent didn't answer. Garcia tried and Morgan and they felt that there was more to the non-appearance of Spencer Reid at the BAU than they were being told.

"So what do you think is going on?" asked Jareau, trying to make some sense about how these events were unfolding.

"Look, Reid's come back all different…he's edgy, he's reclusive…doesn't want to join in things anymore…" Morgan tried to clarify his thoughts.

"He went and looked up his friend," interjected Jareau, "So he's not avoiding people."

"He's avoiding us, J.J., because he doesn't want us to see something…" Morgan carefully replied, wondering if he really should share all his concerns.

"See what?" asked Emily, because the other two women seemed incapable of wanting to pursue Morgan's thoughts on the matter.

"What if, Hotch is trying to protect Reid…you know, because he knows there's something wrong…something that would end his career," Morgan tried to put his fears into words but was still reluctant to be specific.

Garcia stared at her friend, all flirtatiousness gone, "What the hell are you implying, Derrick, spit it out!" she commanded.

"What if Reid is on drugs?" he said quietly, and he didn't even like hearing his voice saying the words.

The women were collectively silent, not wanting to think too deeply about the suggestion, but at the same time pulled into the horror of the thought, and each reviewed Reid's behaviour since his return.

"Look, we know Spence was given drugs against his will…Now think about it, Reid isn't going to destroy his life with drugs," said J.J. firmly, trying to bring some common sense to the evening.

"Perhaps he got a taste for whatever Hankel gave him…" Morgan countered.

"It was dilaudid, wasn't it? …That's pretty addictive," Emily added, seeing some merit in Morgan's suggestion.

"But…But they would've given him a tox screen as soon as he got to hospital and they would've got it out of his system," reasoned Garcia.

"But it's 6 months since Georgia, perhaps the stress of coming back has led him to get his own supply," Morgan suggested.

"He would have had a drug test before he was allowed back," Jareau said, feeling increasingly unhappy about how things were going.

"But he's been back a month…and his behaviour…Sometimes he's looked dishevelled and wasted…Remember how he turned up for that Houston briefing…Where the hell had he been? He was late, but Hotch didn't chew him out in front of us…You've seen the way Gideon watches him sometimes?" Morgan said, hoping that he was wrong, but he wanted to confront the man with his suspicions.

"What are you planning to do?" Prentiss asked Morgan.

"I'm going round to his place and confront him about all of this…You know, ask him where he was… Anyone else coming?"

"I'll come, if you think it would be some help," Prentiss replied.

"I'm in," Garcia added and they then turned to the quiet slender blond.

"Well, I don't believe any of this speculation and I'm going home now," said Jareau firmly, getting up and putting on her coat. She was still quite upset that Reid hadn't answered his cell and wondered what he was doing but decided, that whatever it was, having them descend on his home wasn't a good idea. Spencer Reid was a private person and she could appreciate that…

The three colleagues piled into Morgan's car and he set off in the direction of Alexandria. They parked in the visitor's bay and went together to the security door. Garcia felt apprehensive but thought she should support Morgan in his quest. Morgan jabbed impatiently at the appropriate bell button. There was no answering voice over the com system and he then pressed even harder and longer in his frustration. Prentiss thought that she was glad she had come along, just in case Morgan's tensions turned to physical blows with the younger agent.

"Well…his old car's here," Morgan muttered, wanting to kick something to release the pent up energy inside him.

"Well, Sugar, perhaps he's gone out by train…you know, he does go to concerts in Washington," Garcia tried to soothe the man with them.

"He does?" asked Morgan, who had not seriously considered where he would go without his car.

"Yeah…don't you speak to him? He likes lots of classical stuff," Garcia revealed.

Prentiss thought that she liked classical concerts too, but didn't like going on her own. She wondered if she could persuade Reid to go to a concert with her. Deep down, the more she found out about the very private Spencer Reid, the more she liked him. She admitted to herself, that had she been 10 years younger, she would have made a play for the genius …

"Well, he's not answering or he's really out…let's go and wait in the car for a while," suggested Morgan, who was not going to give up so easily. The two women glanced at each other, behind his back, and silently agreed to humour him for the time being.

Two hours later, Reid was driving Jo, in her silver Lexus, towards the apartment block, however, he noticed Morgan's car and felt angry. He drove straight past and observed that Garcia and Prentiss were also with him.

"What's wrong?" Jo asked, aware of a change in his mood and an obvious change of plan.

"Can we go to your place? I'll explain there…It's nothing you've done," he said tersely, as the anger grew inside him against his colleagues.

Jo was alert to the anger in his voice, it was a cold anger and she had never heard it before, but wondered why he didn't want to go to his apartment? They had been happily chatting about their weekend plans as they turned into their street and then suddenly… he just kept going.

Jo still kept things at her apartment because she liked to paint there and sometimes used it as a place to do her interior design work. It was not a problem to go back there because she kept food in the cupboards and milk in the fridge for when she used the place. She had actually been there with her Uncle Jeff, that afternoon, to discuss ideas for the renovation of the apartments Jeff was interested in buying for his company. They had drank tea and eaten her home-made ginger cake while they 'costed out' the work and factored it into the purchase price Jeff was willing to offer.

She opened her apartment door and went straight to the kitchen area to make them both peppermint teas.

Spencer was pensive as he sat on her cream couch and for the moment showed no indication that he was going to give her an explanation. Jo concentrated on her task and let him brood a little longer. She put some ginger cookies on the tray with the mugs of tea and finally went and sat with him.

"Thanks," he said absently, as she placed the mug before him on the marble top of the coffee table. She smiled and waited patiently for him to explain. Jo nibbled on a cookie and was conscious that she must not eat more than two. She was a comfort eater and Spencer was making her feel like she needed chocolate at that moment.

Reid abruptly reached for the mug and shook himself mentally.

"I'm sorry, Jo, but as I got to the apartment, I saw Morgan's car…and as I drove past, saw that he had Garcia and Prentiss with him…they …I… Jeez Jo!" he exploded, " I spend so much time with those people, I need to get away from them when I'm not working…Do you understand?" he pleaded for understanding with his sensitive eyes that held a haunted quality.

"Yes, I think I do…You need to have normality away from work and your colleagues just remind you of the horrors you all deal with on the job," she said quietly. She had observed her brother's marriage and knew that he too liked to separate his work, as a burns surgeon, from his home life. Melinda had been a nurse, before she had the children, and understood all too well the pressures that hospital staff faced with their work. But even her father was careful not to bring his work to the table, as her mother put it, and made a point of having friends outside the law and law enforcement.

"Yeah, that's it," Spencer ran his right hand through his hair, sweeping it back and destroying any parting that had once existed, "I don't want my off duty time contaminated by the BAU…That's the best attitude to have, you know, it's healthy to keep the two apart," Spencer said earnestly, "You know Morgan gets so set on things, he might end up taking the other two home, but I bet he returns later and waits…Well he's going to have a long wait!"

Jo reached out a comforting hand to cover his, "It's all right, I understand, we can stay here all weekend…I can go round to your place and get you anything you need from the apartment tomorrow. They don't know who I am, so if I go in and come out with a case, they'll just think I'm going on a vacation…especially if I use the case I had for Europe, it's still got the airline labels on." Jo soothed, but her eyes twinkled with mischief as she made her offer.

Spencer grinned at her suggestion, "Great idea…and it might teach Morgan a lesson!"

"Mmmm… why do you think they turned up anyway?" asked Jo, as they had not done this before.

"Perhaps Morgan was just being nosy as to why I was not there this afternoon… But Hotch was informed that I was going to the Mental Health department, after the drug test, to discuss next weeks training…they could always have asked him…"

But then Spencer deliberately closed off the thoughts in that area and concentrated upon the precious time he had with Jo…

At 11:30 p.m., Morgan had found himself dropping Garcia back at her apartment. He had taken Prentiss home to Arlington first because she had won the toss. As he drove back towards Alexandria, Morgan was determined to find out what Reid was upto in his life. He drove back to the parking bay and looked up towards Reid's third floor apartment, but there were no signs of life. He went and rung the bell, just to make sure that no one was at home and, once back in the car, tried Reid's number again. Morgan was pissed off with the young agent, but he was determined to find out what was going on, and settled down in the car to try and get a few hours sleep.

On Saturday morning, while Spencer went and did some food shopping, Jo made her way back to Spencer's apartment and noticed the car Reid had told her about. She couldn't see the driver, but she went inside the building to get the things Spencer thought he'd need. They had decided to spend the next week together, at her smaller apartment, to deliberately teach his colleagues a lesson. Jo went to the first closet and brought out her large suitcase and began to fill it with clothes that Spencer might need for the next week. He had made a list and she added a few of her own favourites; he did seem to wear just a very small selection of older clothes for his work and she didn't like some of them. Jo didn't like the bold yellow checked shirt or his cable knit cardigan, but Spencer assured her that they were comfortable and had a place in his life.

She collected his laptop from the living room and put it into her black leather briefcase together with his mail, which she had collected before taking the elevator up to the apartment. Jo was pleased that the suitcase had wheels because it was quite heavy, or was that really just an illusion because she didn't like the thought that his gun and holster were also in there ready for Monday. She found it odd that he would be allowed to wear his gun even if he was on Psych training, but he said that because he was an active agent, who had passed the weapons training, and he was expected to wear it at work. Spencer explained that was why he thought Gideon always wore his gun round the back, so he looked defenceless on first glance and more like a college professor.

Jo wheeled the suitcase out towards her car and opened up the car-boot; she carefully lifted the case and placed the brief case alongside it. Jo noticed as she got in the driver's seat, that Morgan was back with a coffee and a bag of something but she didn't want to be caught staring in his direction. She started the Lexus and tried to drive away as normal as possible, but couldn't resist looking his way as she drove past and a smile formed on her lips…Spencer was right afterall; he had probably stayed all night. Well, she thought, the guy was going to have a pretty boring weekend just sitting in the parking bay.

Monday morning came all too quickly for Jo and Spencer. It was agreed that Spencer should use Jo's Lexus that week and he dropped her off at the station en route to Quantico. Jo usually went by train to the main office of Fairfax Estates, in Washington, because there was really no where to park and the commuter traffic was horrendous. She really only used her car for driving around Virginia during her leisure time.

Meanwhile, Morgan had spent a few more hours at Spencer's apartment, on the Saturday, before finally going home. He went out partying on the Saturday evening and spent the night with Chrissy but on the way home, at Sunday lunchtime, he stopped off once more at Reid's place. He stayed about 30 minutes and still periodically tried his cell, but Reid was being totally elusive. That evening, Morgan went out dancing and met Chloe but she was then called into the hospital, where she was a theatre nurse. Morgan drove home on Sunday night, via Alexandria, but again without any luck. Agent Morgan got up early and went once more to Reid's apartment en route to work, but there was no response and his car didn't look as if it had been moved from when they had seen it on Friday night. Morgan didn't like mysteries and he knew he wouldn't be able to settle until he had answers.

Hotch was in at his normal time and found an unusual message waiting for him from the Mental Health team. He thought at first it might be about Reid's training for that week, but he got a surprise when he read the letter. Dr. Jason Gideon was being called before the Mental Health Services board to explain his actions over certain unspecified incidents during the past year. Hotch didn't think that Gideon was due to have a normal review and why had he been asked to attend, normally it was an invitation to attend if he had the time. Hotch suddenly remembered the warning Tony had given him, before the New Orleans case, and he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He knew that he couldn't keep covering up Gideon's deficiencies; Gideon could be abrupt with people when he was totally concentrating on a case and sometimes it could be misconstrued as rudeness. But then he could, by contrast, be utterly solicitous and full of compassion at other times. It was this inconsistency that seemed to be getting worse alongside his increasing distance from the team. Tony had mentioned the team monitoring…perhaps that was why the Mental Health team had pushed through Reid's next step in his training so quickly. Hotch's mind tried to find a reason and concluded that perhaps Reid was going to help Gideon with his workload. He hoped he was right, he didn't want to break up this team, which despite the diverse personalities of its' members, they could work quite well together on a case.

Hotch scanned the letter again. The Unit Chief was asked to attend as Gideon's immediate superior and it stated that Erin Strauss could attend if she wished. Again Hotch was reminded of Tony's warning and wondered if any of this might give Strauss ammunition against the team. However, it meant that the team would be office bound for at least today, which would be relaxing for everyone, as the team had been doing too much travelling away recently. The board didn't meet until 2 o'clock so at least it gave Hotch and Gideon a little time to discuss things.

Morgan only just managed to get in on time because of his diversion to Alexandria.

"Hey, did you get any answers?" Prentiss asked, as she looked up at Morgan as he sat down at his desk.

Morgan shook his head, "If you ask me, that guy hasn't been there all weekend. I drove round the usual car park, the psych's use, I thought he might have been deliberately ignoring me at the apartment and slipped out after I'd gone, but he hasn't driven his old car here today."

"Well, Garcia said he was on training this week…perhaps he's been sent off base," Emily suggested.

"Emily, we have superb psych training here, other organisations send their people to us…not the other way round…"

"So…what are you thinking?" Prentiss delved because she had always liked a mystery and the speculation would make the profile requests seem less of a drudge on this Monday. She had personally experienced a good weekend and hoped she would be seeing more of George.

"What if Spencer's been sent off to re-hab, under the guise of training, because any addiction had its basis in getting kidnapped…you know…like the Bureau taking some responsibility and trying to keep it all quiet…"

"If you're correct then we're hardly going to find out…" Prentiss countered, but she saw a gleam in Morgan's eyes and he was rising out of his chair.

"There's one way to find out…"he said softly.

"How?" Emily whispered, sensing that there was something not quite right and she wanted to know where this man was going.

"Medical records…" Morgan whispered, as he passed her chair, "I'm going to ask Garcia if she can help us."

"Wait!" Emily called and Morgan stopped, waiting for her to catch up with him, "I'm not sure this is the right way to do things…I mean Garcia could get into trouble," she whispered her caution, and hoped the man would realise what he was asking of their friend.

"Garcia's the best…if anyone can do this, she can…" Morgan asserted, hoping to allay Emily's fears.

"But she could loose her job if she's found out…"

"Garcia's the best," Morgan repeated, but looked at Emily's stubborn and worried stance and decided to make things sound a little more reasonable, "Look…she can always say no."

Barry looked in their direction and didn't look too pleased that they were out of their seats.

Morgan caught Barry's stare, "Christ that guy! It's worse than being back in High School some days when we're office-bound. Look, you go and get busy on your profiles or Barry will get suspicious that we're up to something."

Emily returned to her desk hoping that Garcia would do the sensible thing. Five minutes later, Morgan returned and started on his pile of requests. Prentiss didn't say anything but concentrated on her own work for the next hour. When she went to make some coffee, Morgan followed her into the kitchen.

"You going to ask?" Morgan lightly teased.

"I would guess from your upbeat demeanour that Garcia consented…"

"She understood my reasoning and said she'd try later this morning, when she'd finished implementing some new updates for her workstation."

Emily took her coffee back to her desk hoping it would help her tackle the next few profile requests, which in turn might stop her thinking that Garcia was treading on very thin ice.

At 11:25, three internal security men and the head of personnel records walked purposefully into the BAU section and went immediately to Garcia's domain. Barry had seen their arrival and was making his way across the bullpen to Garcia's office, to find out what was wrong, when Garcia was walked out between two of the security men; the third guarded the door into her room. Emily looked across at Morgan as her mind came up with an answer that she hoped was wrong. Morgan picked up the charged atmosphere and looked up; work seemed to have ceased in the bullpen, everyone seemed to be staring in the direction of the glass doors through which Garcia had just been escorted. Barry came out of Garcia's room white-faced and with a 'don't anyone dare ask' expression as he walked up the steps crisply to Hotch's closed door.

Morgan was speechless; he had always believed in Garcia's invincibility, but now the reality of his request rooted him into his seat. Derrick Morgan's mind refused to process what he had seen and the consequences of his actions.

Hotch and Barry emerged within a few minutes; Hotch went immediately to Garcia's room to speak with the head of personnel records. Hotchner looked furious when he emerged and made his way towards Morgan and Prentiss. Emily could feel his fury as he approached and felt frozen in her seat by the cold wave of anger that was coming their way.

"Morgan!" he barked, and the whole of the bullpen jumped at the thunder of his controlled anger, "My office, now!"

Hotchner turned and walked stiffly back up the steps, followed by a very subdued agent who had never seen his boss look or sound so irate before.

Morgan closed the office door while Hotch stood behind his desk. Derrick Morgan felt his boss had deliberately taken this stance and put the furniture between them to emphasise his superior position. Agent Morgan could see the tension in the pulsating veins in Hotch's neck and the balled fists which he suddenly opened as he slammed his hands down on the desktop. Morgan was rooted to the spot momentarily speechless before this unknown Unit Chief.

"It was your idea wasn't it!" and the rest of the bullpen sat in silence unable to work as they heard their boss ball out the usually cocky agent. Barry muttered to Pat, the chief clerical assistant, that he'd never seen Hotch so angry before.

"Well…what's your reason for asking Garcia to look into Reid's personal medical records?" and there was a collective gasp from the listeners.

"Christ! That's instant dismissal…What's going on with you people? Reid would never have done that to you," Louise, a clerical assistant with 10 years experience, asked Emily. But Emily was speechless with the enormity of the incident.

J.J. came out of her office to find out what was happening. Barry took her aside and briefed her and J.J. looked down at Emily in utter disbelief that Garcia would have agreed to such a thing. She looked towards Gideon's door, but Barry told her that Gideon had left before 10 o'clock to prepare for a board meeting that afternoon.

"YOU DID WHAT!" Hotchner's voice roared, and the listeners looked at one another wondering what Morgan had just said.

J.J. felt physically sick remembering how they had behaved on the Friday evening. Garcia had told her earlier, before work, that they had waited outside Reid's apartment for several hours. Then, after driving the women home, Morgan had gone back again and waited all night. Agent Jareau had hoped that Emily would have been the voice of reason, because Morgan and Garcia tended to feed off one another's extremes. It wasn't yet midday and the usual mundane office Monday morning had been totally shattered; Agent Jareau wondered if the team would ever be the same after this.

Hotch's door suddenly opened and Hotch walked out briskly to the rail, "Prentiss, my office now!"

Emily got up, her legs felt heavy like lead, not wanting to move and be watched making her way to obey Hotchner's summons. She tried to remain poised, her facial expression as neutral as possible, but she knew that her composure was very insecure; they should not even have staked out Reid's apartment and she would accept whatever censure would be given.

Hotch had icily listened to Emily's account of the Friday evening. She told how Agent Jareau had been the voice of reason and left, not wanting to be part of what they did and how they staked out a fellow agent's home…because they wanted to confront him about their suspicions over drugs.

As Hotchner listened, he wondered if this day could get any worse but then he thought that perhaps he was tempting fate; there was the afternoon to come yet.

"You are both suspended," Hotch said sternly, "You will give me your badges and your guns and you will leave this building and this site immediately. You will both be informed of the date of your disciplinary hearing, which will probably be sometime this week. In the meantime, you are to keep away from Agent Reid's home and make no attempt to contact him, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," they said in unison and walked numbly out of the office, feeling naked in their disgrace.

Hotch sat down wondering what the hell had happened, why had he not seen these events in the making?

He called the head of security and informed him of the suspension of his two agents and then made a similar call to personnel. He knew that both agents would be contacted and informed of their rights and help would be offered in the form of union representation, to assist them with the disciplinary hearing. They could refuse any help, but he hoped they would not be arrogant and reject the help offered, because that always looked bad in the eyes of those judging them.

Hotch pulled himself together and tried to calm the still angry feelings he had. He now had to go and find Garcia who would be undergoing an interview before usually being dismissed. Hotch had no idea if he would be able to save Garcia's career, but he felt he had to try.

Hotchner noted, with satisfaction, that everybody had their heads down when he left; it was not however a pleasant working atmosphere, but one of knife edged tension. He thought it would do these people good to remember that they may be talented, but they were not above the rules of privacy, and that there were procedures to follow if there were any suspicions about a colleague's life style.

However, as Aaron Hotchner entered the elevator, he couldn't help but feel apprehension rising about the rest of the day. Gideon had not seemed anxious about his meeting before the Mental Health Services board that afternoon and had merely gone home to read over recent notes so the details were clear in his mind. Hotchner's mind replayed their earlier conversation in Gideon's office…

"Well, don't worry…it's just the normal internal assessment they periodically do," Gideon had assured, when told of Hotchner's summons to attend.

"But I'm not usually asked to attend, Jason," Hotch pressed, hoping that using the man's first name would make him realise that this was perhaps more of a personal matter, than just the usual bureaucratic procedure, "It doesn't state specifically what they're going to be looking at…but it's not a year since your last one."

Gideon looked calmly at him over his glasses, "The training procedures, and those for assessment, have been reviewed recently…or haven't you noticed? I suspect this 'asking for your attendance' is part of the changes and to make things more open between the two senior agents," Gideon replied evenly, wondering why Hotch was getting edgy over what was, after all, his assessment not his Unit Chief's. Gideon watched his friend weigh up the words he had just spoken and Hotch seemed to relax a little.

"I need to go home and read over my past years notes so I'm prepared for anything they might ask…Is that all right?" Gideon requested in a reasonable tone.

"Yeah, of course… Good idea, if you stay here you'll probably get interrupted," conceded Hotch.

"Right, I'll get going and I'll see you outside room 403 at 2 p.m. if that's Ok with you?"

"Sure, if that's how you want to prepare," replied Hotch, and he left as Gideon got up and reached for his jacket and battered brief case.

The elevator doors opened and he continued to make his way towards Internal Security where Garcia had been taken. As Hotch reached the outer doors, he couldn't stop the feeling that the team seemed to be imploding before him…

End of Chapter 19


	20. Chapter 20

The In-Between Times: Chapter 20 

**by Helena Fallon**

Hotch would be allowed into the room where Garcia was recording her statement. Watkins, Head of Internal Security and Gilbey, Head of Personnel Records were already there and had been asking her questions. For the moment, Hotch decided to watch from the outside.

Garcia felt physically sick, she couldn't stop shaking and held her hands together in her lap so she could at least feel that she was still real. She knew that she had risked her career, it was written into her contract that she could not access the medical records of agents. Such access was only allowed by Heads of Departments and by the Mental Health Team who all had their own codes of conduct to adhere to. It was doubly compounded by the fact that she had just been told that Dr. Reid was considered a member of the Mental Health Team, now he was undertaking psych evaluations for them, and her actions were further frowned upon because that department were assured extra security. This also meant that the Mental Health Team could question her, but it all pointed in one direction; dishonourably dismissed from the FBI. It would mean no pension rights and no reference to get another job in computing. No one would want to employ her for the advanced skills she had because she would not be trusted ever again. So far, she had refused to say who had asked her for the information she was seeking.

She looked up when she heard the door open and a distinguished athletic looking middle-aged man entered. She read his nametag as he came to sit opposite her. ' So the Mental Health Team had sent a psychiatrist, not a psychologist,' she thought.

"I'm Dr. Don Findall, I'm a senior member of the Mental Health Team, Ms. Garcia. You do understand that trying to access the records of a member of the Mental Health Team was going to be flagged up in my department, and then to compound that by it not being Dr. Reid's personal file but his health records… Ms. Garcia, Medical Records are private, all the courts of this land respect that and any access to them is under strict conditions…"

Garcia had no voice and could only nod while her stomach churned in on itself, trying to destroy her from within. She was perspiring but she felt cold. Her mouth was dry, but she didn't think she would ask for water in case her trembling hands spilt it and made a further mess to add to the one she was already in.

"I would appreciate knowing why you did it?" the blue eyed man politely asked.

The two other men had been quite abrasive with her, but this man seemed gentleness personified and it made her think of Reid. 'Oh God, Reid, how would he ever forgive her…would he even accept an apology?'

"I…I…was worried that he might be on drugs…and we…I wanted to know if he was in re-hab because his car wasn't in the car park," she managed in a small voice that made her sound like a 6 year old.

"But, Ms. Garcia, why would you think Dr. Reid was on drugs?"

"His behaviour with the team…Derrick…I mean Agent Morgan and Agent Prentiss were concerned about him and told me how he didn't seem like his normal self."

"But Ms. Garcia, Dr. Reid went through a traumatic experience and that would change anyone…you can't expect him to behave in the same way as before that event," Don tried gently to explain and had some sympathy for the watching Hotch outside…

"Who needs enemies, with the political in fighting of the Bureau, when your own team is hell bent on self destruction," Hotch had said to him, as they watched Garcia before Don had entered.

"Didn't Dr. Gideon explain how things might be for a while, before Dr. Reid returned?"

"No…"Garcia replied and wondered where his questioning was going.

"But Dr. Gideon spoke to you all when Agent Jareau returned after her sick leave?"

"Yes…" and Garcia began to realise that something was very wrong with how Reid had returned.

"Was this your idea?" Don asked directly.

Garcia remained silent and Hotch realised that this talented woman was prepared to risk her career for the stupid actions of an arrogant agent. He decided that it was time for him to enter the proceedings.

When Hotch briskly walked in, Don surrendered his seat to him and went and stood with the other two men, at the back of the room, facing the woman. Don thought how well she was holding up to this intimidating stance of the men.

Hotch was in no mood for pleasantries. "You can stop the pretense Garcia," Hotch ploughed in, "I've spoken to Morgan and Prentiss, who are both suspended and will be facing a disciplinary board… They told me about what happened on Friday night and Morgan told me how he asked you to access the records."

Hotch saw Garcia's eyes well up with tears and her lips trembled, "Yes," she managed, and fought hard to keep control of her emotions.

"You could have said no, Garcia," Hotch said in exasperation, "There are procedures laid down if agents think colleagues are on drugs, drinking to much…or even thought to be a danger to themselves…and none of you contacted myself or Gideon…Why?"

"We wanted to be sure first…We wanted to make Reid understand that we cared about him," she simply said and Hotch knew that Garcia's good heart had enabled her to be swayed by the very mercurial Morgan.

"Gentlemen," Hotch said, turning to the other men, "Can we discuss this outside?"

Garcia watched the four men file out and she felt everything she had worked for melt away. She had been so sure that she could do it, but she'd not factored in the extra security measures that would be afforded Reid as a member of the Mental Health Team.

Gilbey wanted her dismissed but Don argued that she had acted out of genuine, if misguided concern, that was itself the consequence of the team's senior psych failing to prepare the team for Reid's return. Watkins could understand the reasons, but they still had not followed a well-laid down procedure and felt that all the agents involved should be punished. The three men turned towards Hotch for his opinion.

"Garcia is excellent at her job, but she has been far too cavalier about using her skills and she does need to be reminded, as does everyone else in the team, that they have acted out of line and face disciplinary action…That's why the other two agents are suspended at the moment awaiting a disciplinary hearing. Gilbey, you have a say in this matter because her skills affect your department…"

The men filed back into the room some 20 minutes later and Garcia looked into their serious and closed expressions.

Gilbey spoke, "Penelope Garcia, your routine work in the BAU is appreciated but we cannot let your behaviour go unpunished or it would set a precedence for other illegal hacking by computer staff. It is agreed that you are suspended, without pay, for two weeks and you are demoted by 3 levels on your career scale. Your computer station will be monitored until such time that I am convinced that you can be trusted to work without such surveillance. I require your FBI identification passes, after which you will be escorted off the Quantico site and will not be allowed back until your suspension is lifted. It would be advisable that you make no attempt to contact Dr. Reid during your suspension. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Garcia managed, but she was grateful not to have been dismissed outright. The next few minutes passed in a whirl as security personnel escorted her back to her office to get her belongings and she handed over her identification passes. They then escorted her to her car and watched her drive out of the car park, heading for the nearest perimeter exit.

Garcia felt weak and numb. She drove like a robot home, trying to quell her thoughts and wanting to hide in her private space as quickly as possible. When she turned into her road, Garcia was not very pleased to find both Morgan and Prentiss waiting for her.

Morgan ran over to her car as she parked, "Hey Baby Girl …I'm sorry…What happened?"

"I'm lucky to still have a job…I had 4 people questioning me. Did you realise that Reid's considered part of the Mental Health Team, like Gideon, because he now does psych evaluations?" she demanded angrily, but she knew the answer from their shocked faces.

"No…I mean, he never said…Oh shit …You didn't loose your job though?" Morgan asked, puzzled because he and Prentiss were expecting that.

"No, but I'm demoted by three points on the career scale and that affects my salary a lot. On top of that, I'm suspended for two weeks and from now on my station is monitored by Computer Security until such time I'm considered trusted again…That's what they do to newbies!" she said and a tear escaped as the whole emotional trauma caught up with her.

Morgan went to put his arm round her to offer comfort, but Garcia stiffened and pushed him away, "Just leave me alone…I don't want to see or hear from you until I'm back at the BAU." she angrily said and Garcia walked, without looking back, to the entrance of her apartment block.

Morgan felt stunned; this was not a Garcia he knew. He watched her walk away from them and realised that the ramifications of this were not going to end here. It would soon be out through the Quantico grapevine what had happened and Garcia was going to find facing her colleagues in the computing grades difficult, even if she could hide away in her office at the BAU. Penelope Garcia had been proud of her position and others looked up to her, but this was disgrace and she had been lucky to come out of it with her job.

Prentiss was still struggling to understand the events of the morning; she had hoped Garcia would have refused Morgan's request so she had brought it on her self. However, they all knew how close Morgan and Garcia were in the BAU and she wondered if the disciplinary board would now act as sternly towards Morgan. Prentiss admitted her guilt over staking out another agent's apartment for a few hours, but it went in her favour that she had cautioned Morgan about getting Garcia's help. It had been irresponsible and she would just have to tell the truth when it came to the hearing. Emily thought back to the Friday evening when J.J. had firmly walked away from joining their intrusion into another agent's life. She wondered if J.J. would forgive any of them for what they had done as she remembered the look of betrayal J.J. had given her in the bullpen. Jennifer Jareau was Reid's friend, and a fellow sensitive, and that look was enough to make Emily think about how Reid might view their actions when he was informed.

"Emily…You all right?" Morgan asked.

"Mmm?"

"You were just so far away, you didn't hear what I was saying, did you?" Morgan said, observing her quietly.

"I was thinking about the look J.J. gave me while you were in with Hotch…I just don't know how we're going to say sorry to Reid," Emily confessed.

"Well, as he isn't here, they may not tell him," reasoned Morgan, "You know, we don't know when he's coming back and by then this may have all blown over," he said, trying to find some optimism to back up his words.

Emily Prentiss was silent, she had listened to Morgan a little too much recently and it was time to step back and start seeing things with her own eyes. She wasn't convinced that Reid was off the base, and Hotch seemed furious with their explanations. Now as she thought about things, it seemed unlikely that the Mental Health Team would have a suspected drug addict working amongst them. These were very fine psychs, who were experienced in handling agents hell bent on hiding some of their true feelings in case it lead them to being removed from their work.

"I'm going home," Emily said dully, "I promised I'd see a friend later,"

She turned without waiting for Morgan to make a reply and went to her car. It was not a lie, she was hoping that George would ring later because he would take her mind away from the actions that had lead to her present suspension.

Derrick Morgan was forced to face the unfolding consequences of his actions; he had pissed off Garcia, Emily, J.J., Hotch, and probably Gideon when he found out and then there was Reid… 'Oh man, Reid!' he thought as exasperation broke through again… What's more, he still didn't know what was going on with that guy.

He walked back to his own car; he'd never been in this situation before, he'd always got what he wanted since joining the FBI. Morgan drove home to his small townhouse and was greeted by his dog, Cluny. He changed into a tracksuit and found Cluny's lead, the dog was enthusiastic about the promise of exercise. Man and dog began to jog along to the local park so Morgan could try and get rid of his frustration with physical exercise.

Meanwhile, Garcia was in her fortress of bright and warm things, but even their kaleidoscope of colours could not lift her spirits. She had been employed with the Bureau for several years before Aaron Hotchner had picked her out of the candidate list, of computer analyst and data retrieval experts, and now she felt that she had personally failed his trust in her. It had been bad enough over the Garner case but this was far worse; she had deliberately broken her contract by attempting to break into an agent's medical records, the data protection laws were very stringent. It amazed Garcia that she had been so leniently dealt with; she really had been expecting dismissal.

Her cell phone rang and she glanced at the ID and was relieved that it was not Morgan.

"Hi, J.J." she managed, surprised that she would call her after all that had happened.

"How are you? Hotch came back, looking like thunder and Barry's been in his office since…Did you get dismissed?" the voice asked quietly.

"I thought I was going to be, but I didn't actually manage to get in the records because Reid now comes under Mental Health Services data protection because of the psych evaluation he does for them. But I'm suspended and I've been demoted by 3 points and I'm going to be monitored by Computer Security from now on," Penelope confessed, "Morgan and Emily were waiting for me when I got home, but I didn't feel like talking…Hotch told me that he's suspended them."

"Oh God, I've never seen or heard Hotch so angry…We all heard him ball out Morgan, despite the office door being closed. But he needed that; you were all wrong for what happened on Friday night and Morgan just continuing to stake his place out…I'm surprised some of the residents didn't call the police," said J.J. who was not in the mood for sugar coating her words, but Garcia knew she was having a much needed reality check from the only sensible one of the team.

"I've been told that it's advisable not to contact Reid, but I'm going to have to say sorry sometime," Garcia said, "Has Hotch said where Reid is?"

"Not to me. I know that Gideon wasn't in the office when it all blew up. He'd gone home to prepare for some board meeting this afternoon. Like I said, Barry has been with Hotch since he came back. It's an awful atmosphere here at the moment; everyone's in shock and the bullpen is unnaturally quiet. I think we keep expecting Strauss to come flying through the doors at any moment…"

"Oh… Christ! We forgot about her…We've really dropped the team in it, haven't we?"

J.J. couldn't lie, "Yeah, Garcia, Strauss isn't going to be very impressed with the BAU if 3 of its agents were staking out a fellow agent…She's going to want to know why you didn't follow procedure."

"What do you thinks going to happen to Emily and Morgan?"

"I don't know, that's upto the disciplinary board, but they will look at the agents' past records of service. I don't know Emily really, but we both know that Morgan can show too much of a 'macho persona' sometimes. I suppose who is on the disciplinary board will affect the outcome…"

"Do you think they'll move him?"

"I don't know," J.J. answered honestly, but the thought had crossed her mind and she had heard the bullpen discussing the possibilities. It had been an interesting exercise for J.J. to listen to the desk bound agents, and the clerical staff, discuss the profilers. Hotchner was deeply respected for his fairness and professionalism, Gideon was respected but not all people liked him because he could be moody. Reid was liked because he was polite and quiet, Emily seemed to be earning some respect. Meanwhile, Morgan was seen as the 'ageing playboy' who the older women saw as a rather shallow man who was all image, but no depth.

"Look, I was wondering if you'd like to come round tonight to stop you brooding?" Jareau invited.

Garcia was touched by the kindness. "You still want to be my friend?"

"Garcia you can be foolish at times, especially where Morgan is concerned, but I think you will have learnt your lesson by this and I hope I'm still considered a friend," J.J. said with understanding.

"I will if it's just us two,"

"Yeah, just us two…" the slender blond assured.

Aaron Hotchner was pleased to find that Erin Strauss was actually in New York for the next couple of days, it gave him a little time to try and get to grips with what was happening to the team. He had been trying to contact Gideon since returning to his office, but he wasn't answering so he couldn't warn him about the recent developments.

"You all right Hotch?" Barry asked solicitously.

Hotch shook his head, "Hell of a Monday morning. Please don't say that you want to jump ship…"

"No, I'm as concerned as you with how they have behaved. You know I knew Reid when he first joined us and we all adopted him, but we respected his intelligence and his privacy…Not like Morgan. I don't get on with him…it's mutual as you realised when I helped out, but his attitude sometimes…" Barry stopped, he thought he was probably making things worse.

"What didn't you like?" pressed Hotch.

"When Reid didn't pass his firearms…We know why, he was subconsciously worried about if he actually had to use it on the job. We've all experience it to varying degrees, but he's such a sensitive man…he worries about things so deeply. But when he had to make that decision, he came through good. Several of us heard Elle say to Morgan, not to mention the test failure. Gideon agreed and pointedly looked at Morgan…So what does Morgan do…deliberately mentions it and hangs a whistle round Reid's neck…There are a lot of people here who still remember that and that's why they don't really like Morgan."

Hotch nodded, he had heard the clerical assistants talking, it had gone round the Bureau what Morgan had done that day. Whenever there was a new pretty assistant, Morgan would make a bee line and start flirting. However, what Morgan didn't know was, that when he'd gone, the female network informed the newcomer what Morgan was like, which included the whistle incident. Morgan had a reputation but it was one that Morgan probably wouldn't recognise.

"Then there was that silly birthday party…We never did anything like that to him…We had fun but we were far more grown up…You know the blowing up of condoms…The tales of our own youthful birthdays over a few beers…You ever got out of him just what did happen on his 21st?"

"No," replied a bemused Hotchner.

"The nearest we got was something about the Minnesota twins…" Barry shrugged his shoulders and grinned, "The old team reckoned that Reid wasn't as innocent as he looked and played…We concluded that he hid behind that little boy lost image."

Hotch shook his head in good humour, he had not known the old team and Gideon rarely liked to talk about them because of the Boston incident that cost their lives. They must have been all nearly old enough to each play Reid's father, but here was Barry recalling another happier time. Reid had never complained to Gideon, or himself, about Morgan's behaviour, but the two senior agents had made notes in Morgan's personal file and that would be read before the disciplinary hearing. Hotch would not interfere with the hearing but would let it take its course. None of the agents had come to him with their suspicions and if they had, he could have assured them that they were groundless. 'No,' thought Hotch, 'Morgan may be a good agent but he was not irreplaceable and there were plenty of others waiting to try for the BAU. If Morgan couldn't follow the correct procedure, then his arrogance of being on the team had grown too much and he needed to be reminded that the BAU acted within the Bureau guidelines, not outside it.'

Hotchner had told Barry what had happened with Garcia and they both agreed that she was lucky to have kept her job. However, they also concluded that it would probably act as a much needed lesson and make her far more wary of being pulled into Morgan's schemes if he remained in the BAU. Hotchner also asked Barry for his opinion over how Reid seemed to be settling back.

"He slipped back into the desk bound profiling without missing a beat, and he didn't complain when I said that rules required me to check his work at first. He was quiet but then he had been out of it for 5 months. But there again, he'd been doing psych evaluations with the psych team and I think he'd enjoyed doing that side of the Bureau's work. Everyone was shocked at how thin he was, but for me there was something else…I couldn't put my finger on it at first and it has niggled away…"

"What is it? Barry, this is a private conversation," Hotch assured the experienced man before him.

"I think he's changed…I mean that's natural with what's happened to him, but I think he's stabilised. It's like before he was hiding behind a lot of mirrors and we were trying to see the true image. Now I think he knows who is and he has a better sense of where he is in the world…If you ask me, the psychs did a good job on Reid while he was on sick leave. He's still the genius who is sensitive, compassionate and full of empathy…but he's more at ease with himself and that comes with maturity…I guess it's all the consequence of what happened. He wasn't just on the edge, looking in, like we do when on a case… it actually happened to him and it's made him question the meaning of his life. I think he may have found someone to share that life with…I just hope whoever it is can cope with the job."

Hotch let a rare warm smile form. The team tended to under-estimate Barry, but Hotch could see why this man had originally been on Gideon's team and why love for his family lead to him to step down to be desk bound. Hotch respected his organising skills and his profiling work within the office and regretted that he had not fitted in to the present team when he had helped them. His work within the team was very good, but the tensions between Morgan and Barry had simmered and Barry was sensitive enough to know that it was not working.

"Barry," Hotch said quietly, and with some hesitation, "How do you see Gideon these days?"

Barry was quiet for a few moments while he composed his conflicting emotions about the man who had once been his boss.

"Gideon has never been an easy man to work with…Oh don't get me wrong, he is the best but it comes with a price." He stopped, weighing up Hotch's reaction, but the shrewd man before him nodded and his composure signalled for Barry to continue.

"Gideon can be a good companion if he's in the mood for a bit of fun but he's always had a moody side and while on a case, he's always been single minded. It was interesting when I helped out…I saw how things had changed over the years. Everything has sort of intensified; the moodiness is deeper, his concentration on a case is so intense that he almost forgets that there are co-workers who may not be working at the same emotional and intellectual level. I saw how dismissive he could be with other people, who were not members of the immediate team, and how hard J.J. worked at smoothing the ruffled feathers of local law enforcement. I thought Gideon didn't mix as much with the team at the end of a day. We'd always tried to end the day with a bit of humour…mostly black, but you know it made things more bearable and it was a time when we briefly came together as a group to unwind. I didn't see any of that this time…I guess this team has developed its own way of coping, just like the old one did, and we were a lot older and there were no women so I guess that changes things."

Hotch nodded and could see how the age and sex differentials had affected the team, but he wanted to know something more specific and realised that he had to be more direct.

"Do you think the team is working well together as individuals?" Hotch asked bluntly and saw Barry flinch.

"Look, I worked with you people on a couple of cases when you were all obviously missing Reid…But I guess you want me to say how I felt about things during that time?"

"Yes," answered Hotch, needing to have another's point of view.

"You all concentrate totally on the case in hand…it's so intense that you all bury yourselves so completely into it that I found it disturbing. I'd forgotten how emotionally draining it all is and the pressures that fall on the team with the expectations from the local law enforcement, the victims' families, the media and you yourselves…you have very high expectations among yourselves to succeed. But this means that the team is exhausted at the end of the day. During a case, there seems so little normal conversation between the team…it's all about the case and everything else is excluded. Once the case is over…you people just try to catch up on lost sleep, or rebuild your individual barriers behind reading a book or listening to an ipod. The old team used to play cards…a totally irrational and cheat ridden game of poker and Gideon used to hold the winnings for the charity we'd chosen. We were tired, Hotch, but we made the effort to unwind on the plane home with a silly card game with a positive outcome…you know that made us feel normal. When I travelled home with you people, I felt totally alone because you all retreated into your own emotional compartments to build up your barriers for the next case. I can't do that…I don't belong with the team anymore…It's OK, it made me appreciate the normality of my family life and the world I have in the office…It may not have the kudos of being with the famous team, but I know where I'm the happiest." Barry replied, hoping that Hotch would understand all that he was criticising about the team made it successful in many cases, but success came at too a high price for himself.

"So you still saw Gideon working well?" Hotch pressed.

"Yeah, Gideon is the best, but I think he doesn't mix with the team like he did with the one I'd once been part of…But we were different personalities and older…and Gideon's now older too. You can't keep working in the BAU team without there being consequences. Gideon is coming up to retirement and he doesn't have a wife to go home to and I don't know if he sees his son. Gideon has always been intense…you can see that with the book he keeps for logging the victims. Now to me, he should have other interests and he used to love steam engines and birds and he loved good food and dancing…He hardly ever speaks to me these days, so I don't know what he's doing in his life, but I hope he has things to do totally different from this world," Barry said, indicating with his head the bullpen that could be seen through the slatted venetian blinds.

Hotch nodded and thought that Barry was probably one of the sanest people working in the BAU at that moment.

Hotch stood outside room 403, in the Mental Health Services Department at 1:50 that afternoon, waiting anxiously for Gideon in the hope that he would be able to inform him of the mornings' events. He saw Arthur and Don arrive, the Deputy Director,Charles Reardon, which alarmed Hotch, and then Max turned up with a middle aged Latino woman and Erroll, who had occasionally taken Hotchner's own psych evaluations. Max lingered behind to speak to Hotch.

"Gideon's cutting it fine," Max said noting Hotchner's suppressed agitation.

"Yeah, I haven't been able to contact him to tell him about this mornings events. Does Reid know?"

"We haven't told him yet. He did, however, tell Arnie that he'd seen Morgan and friends outside his apartment on Friday evening. He drove straight past and spent the rest of the weekend with Jo."

"Jo! I take it that's the girlfriend?" asked Hotch, who had kept his suspicions to himself about the young agent.

"She's done the paperwork so you'll get to know officially soon, but he was driving Jo's car on Friday and he's using it today so he didn't have to go back to the apartment. He told Arnie that once Morgan got an idea into his head he could be quite obsessive, but he wasn't having Morgan invading his off-duty world. You can appreciate that can't you?"

"Of course I can, I'm like that myself…but I never thought Morgan would persuade Garcia to try and hack his medical records…She's lucky to have kept her job. Why is the Deputy Director here?"

"Strauss is at the New York office so he came to observe, especially after this mornings events, making sure that there is fair play…you know, the rumours about Gideon and I being foes!" Max stated, and Hotch felt uncomfortable and the nagging feeling grew that this was going to be more serious than Gideon had imagined.

"Why don't you like Gideon?" Hotch asked, as they were alone.

Max turned to look at him, not offended by the question, "I don't have the time to tell you that here, but if you ever find my office door open I will give you the answer…" he replied softy and Hotch immediately filed away the invitation for a more appropriate time.

Max suddenly observed a well-known figure approaching, "Ah here he is…Got caught in the traffic?"

"God…Does everyone go out to lunch on a Monday these days?" Gideon grumbled, a little breathless because he didn't like to be late.

"Everybody's waiting, Dr. Gideon," Max formerly said and Hotch regretted having no time to warn his colleague as they went inside the room, with Max leading the way. The room was a neutral cream with industrial weight dark brown carpeting and pale wood venetian blinds; the FBI symbol dominated one wall. The light oak furniture smoothly complemented everything; the seats of the chairs were of a similar dark brown to the carpet. Hotch absently thought how bland the whole room seemed in contrast to the room's present occupants.

Hotch was apprehensive even if Gideon seemed unfazed by the Deputy Director's attendance. After the introductions, Max preceded to explain why Gideon had been called before the board.

"Dr. Gideon, we senior members of the Mental Health Team have been concerned for some time about certain actions, or perhaps it would be more fairly described as lack of action, in specific situations. We hope this afternoon to come to some understanding as to why you took certain decisions. We wish to make it clear that this a procedure to clarify, where we may have misjudged, because we were not there and you will be given as much time as you wish to explain your actions. Do you understand the rationale for the calling of this board?" Max evenly said.

Hotch stole a glance at his friend who was seated before the long table where the representatives of the Mental Health Team sat along with the Deputy Director. Hotch sat quietly to the side, on the right of Gideon, and was in a position to observe all the parties. Gideon had his neutral mask in place and did not seem at all perturbed by this opening address.

"I understand that the board wish to have me clarify actions or decisions I have made. I am prepared to answer your questions," Gideon calmly said. Hotch thought how strangely gentlemenly and old fashioned these exchanges were, but he couldn't help but feel that this was the lull before the storm.

"Rosa," Max invited and the white haired Latino looked at Gideon and smiled, but Hotch thought that there was something wrong…the shrewdness in her dark eyes did not match the smile on her thin lips and Hotch sensed danger.

"Gideon…may I call you that?"

Gideon gave her an equally shrouded smile and nodded his assent.

"I wish to ask you about Agent Greenaway. We were all very concerned by her departure from the Bureau, especially as Agent Hotchner had requested a psych evaluation which she did not attend."

"I was not actually at Quantico when that happened, Rosa, I was leading the team on the case."

"But you know the events that lead up to her not being with the team," Rosa parried and Hotch felt that Elle's departure had returned to haunt them on the wrong day.

"What is it that you want to know?" Gideon asked smoothly.

"Why was Elle Greenaway not with the team?"

"There had been an incident where the unsub had been shot and killed by Greenaway. The shooting had been judged clean by the local police department, and she was cleared by the Bureau's own internal investigation, but Hotchner and I were not happy with her state of readiness for another case in the field so quickly."

'Shit!' thought Hotch as he sat there feeling helpless, 'They had no proof, only suspicion, that Elle had trapped the man shot.' He remembered how Elle would not admit to what she had done but Hotch was sure of her guilt. He had cornered her into resignation but she would not admit that she had done anything wrong.

"You were not happy about the judgement?" Rosa pressed.

"We felt that Greenaway was far too …how can I put this, 'jumpy', that she seemed to be showing signs of a quickness of temper, beyond her normal feisty behaviour, and we didn't want to unsettle the team while they were concentrating on a case. We thought that perhaps she was still experiencing the after effects of the shooting of the unsub."

"Greenaway was an experienced law enforcement officer before she joined the BAU, but you thought that this last shooting was particularly unsettling, why?" probed Rosa.

'Her conscience and the fact that her nerves were shot to hell!' thought Hotch.

"Greenaway had confronted the unsub on her own, it was a foolish thing to do without back up but, like I said, she was feisty particularly when it came to sex crimes. I think she found herself out of her depth and it frightened her…We thought she had lost her judgement, but only Greenaway knew what happened between herself and the unsub."

"You state in your report that earlier in the evening of the shooting, Elle had been placed as bait in a house on her own…Did she seem all right about her position in this?"

"She said she was fine, she knew we were close by, and we had her wired, nothing could have happened to her," assured Gideon smoothly.

"But she was not fine, was she?" continued Rosa with her probing.

"Pardon, please specify…" said Gideon calmly, but Hotch was not at all calm or perhaps he was just on edge because of what had happened already that day.

"Earlier she had been showing signs of hyper-vigilance, and edginess and she did not do as she was ordered while playing the bait for the unsub. When the arrest fell through she challenged her supervising agent to the point of insubordination." Rosa clarified.

'Oh Christ,' Hotch inwardly groaned, 'Were they trying to get at the BAU because of Elle's suspicious killing?' Hotch tried to stay outwardly calm when he really wanted to jump up and walk about to release his tension.

"I did have to intervene because of her feisty temper, but Greenaway was always very passionate about sex crime cases, and she disagreed about letting the guy go…but we had no choice."

"No you didn't because Greenaway panicked didn't she and blew the trap you had carefully set." Rosa pressed.

"Yes," Gideon conceded.

"Why did she panic?"

"Only Greenaway could answer that, but she said that the guy had been waiting outside long enough and she felt it was time to confront him."

"But that was the opposite of her orders for the night…she was to wait, act normally and even go out for a little while. The rest of you were watching to pounce once he entered the house."

"Yes,"

"Gideon why did she panic?" Rosa repeated, feeling that she was not doing very well with this very experienced criminal profiler.

"I can only tell you what Greenaway said."

"Had not Greenaway had 4 months on sick leave due to being shot in her home?" Rosa asked trying a different angle.

"Yes."

"Did she not return and force herself into a case a few days before she was due to officially return?"

"Yes, but Hotch was careful to send her with Agent Reid, to gather information, away from where the main team were and not involved in the main investigation."

"But didn't she disobey orders and try to involve Agent Reid in that and he would not play along?" pressed Rosa.

"I understand that she did try something like that but Hotch pulled her into line."

"Tell me, Gideon, what did you do to assess Greenaway's mental and emotional state for being back at work?"

Hotch mentally became very alert and remembered Tony's earlier warning about Gideon and team monitoring. Hotch began to think back to Elle's return, 'Just what did Gideon do?' he asked himself.

"Well first of all, she returned unexpectedly and Hotch placed her on the periphery of the investigation with another agent. I did observe her interaction with the team. They all seemed pleased to see her again and she made efforts to behave with them as normal as possible. There were the rare occasions when her judgement was too hasty, but then we were use to her temperament, and in many ways that was reassuring that she was copying…I mean if she had been excessively quiet and withdrawn, then I would have been concerned."

"So you were not concerned about her?" Rosa said, picking up on what she considered a significant remark.

"I was concerned about her. Greenaway had just come back from almost dying, but she seemed to be adjusting back into the team very well." Gideon carefully replied.

"Did you ever work with her yourself, to assess her at this time?"

"No, I was not specifically just working with her, if she was with me at any time, then other agents were present as well. But Hotch made sure that she was not on her own."

"Did you ever talk to her, when she returned, about her shooting during the Garner case?" Rosa pressed.

"No, because we had talked while she was still in the hospital."

"Please explain further…" Rosa invited.

" I stayed at the hospital until she came round, she had almost died and I knew she had no living relatives to be with her."

"But the case was still on going…she did have a contact name?" the Latino woman interjected.

"Yes, but they were taking time to reach them. It was an old friend from her police days and they were on vacation…I didn't want her to wake up to a strange face."

"And did you talk to her once she had left hospital?"

"No, I saw her several times while she was in the hospital, but then I was working on cases. We were very busy and we had to keep going…it's all too familiar in the BAU."

"Did you talk to any of the team about her return and her possible adjustment to the team again?"

"No, as I said earlier, Greenaway came back before her proper date and we were so busy that the opportunity never occurred."

Hotch began to feel very uneasy, Gideon had not supported Elle properly but how did they know…Had something been reported?

"Were you aware that other members of the team had tried to talk to Greenaway because they had noticed that her behaviour was causing them concern?"

"I suspect that they all had at sometime or other, they do tend to try and support one another," replied Gideon evenly and Hotch was surprised at how calm the older man was throughout this questioning.

"But no one ever came to you to express their worries?"

"No."

"Who do you think worried the most amongst the junior members of the team?"

"Reid," said Gideon without hesitation.

"Why him?"

" He's a very caring young man. When we were going to Ozona, Texas, and Elle was not with us, I overheard Reid talking to the others…he was concerned about Elle not being with the team. Also on the way home, I heard him say to Morgan that he should have spoken to me or Hotch about Elle…But I was by then taking a call from Hotch, so I didn't listen anymore." explained Gideon calmly.

"Yes, he still feels that he failed to help Greenaway, he did try to talk to her," Rosa said, "But then he is a very sensitive team member and with his psych background he would be naturally watching what was going on around him."

"Yes, isn't that why the Mental Health Services department have been giving him advanced psychology training?" Gideon countered.

"Yes, several of the psychs who have had sessions with Reid noted that he would be suitable for advanced training, perhaps we should have done it sooner," Rosa suggested.

Gideon shrugged; he didn't think it worthy of comment. Hotch wondered what Reid had said while he was in the Clinic, he had been there a good two months and would have received extensive counselling.

"You feel you could not have handled Greenaway's return any better?"

"Hindsight is wonderful, however, the BAU has a very pressured work schedule and sometimes we all feel worked into the ground, but the team also tries its their best to support one another. Greenaway was an alpha female and sometimes could scare the men who crossed her path. She could on a normal day be feisty, which at times bordered an aggressive quality, and she always felt that she could match anything a male agent could do. That personality is not easy to get near to help…even if they let you see a chink in their Amazon armour and she was not going to show any weakness to Hotch or myself."

"But her fellow agents felt the need to try,"

"So it would seem, but they did not approach either Hotch or myself to give us any specific concern," Gideon reiterated.

"But you did have to speak to her, after her confrontation with Agent Hotchner…what did you say?"

Hotch remembered vividly the incidence. William Lee had been the suspect and because Elle had not followed orders they did not have cause to hold him, and once his lawyer had arrived, their hands were tied. He remembered the furious Elle approaching him in the bullpen of the police precinct…

"You're letting him walk!" protested Elle.

"Back off, Elle," Morgan cautioned, but Elle was fearless in her anger.

"You don't know what's he's done…" Elle persisted.

"The only reason he's walking is because you panicked," Hotch heard himself say in the controlled manner of the Unit Chief…

"I'm supposed to believe that you've got my back?" Elle suddenly said.

"What are you saying to me?" Hotch asked, his lawyer mind seeking clarification in her thinking.

"The last time you sent me home, Hotch, it got me shot," she spat back. Hotch thought that she was obviously hiding a lot of issues arising from her shooting and that she needed counselling when she got back. But Gideon had intervened….

"I intervened because things were getting heated between Elle and Hotch and it was fast bordering on insubordination. I took her to a room to calm down, I told her…

"You need to get some air. While you do, I want you to think about this job, what you've been through, what you're capable of…"

Hotch remembered watching her walk out of the precinct and the way she knocked away Reid's offer of comfort. Hotch also remembered Reid's look of concern that mirrored Gideon's own.

"Do you think she murdered William Lee?" Rosa bluntly asked.

"I was not there, two investigations accepted Greenaway's account…at the end of the day, only she knows what happened."

"Dr. Gideon, what is the suggested procedure for a returning agent after a traumatic event?" Rosa asked with her cold smile.

"A returning agent should be observed and not placed immediately in the field. It is advisable that the normal team members should be briefed about the possible problems a returning agent could experience, but, where possible, these should always be stressed as normal reactions to the tensions of re-adjusting back to the work place. When they are out in the field, they should not be working alone and preferably with a senior agent who can monitor their adjustment to being back on the job. The senior agent, with psych training, should find the time to talk to the returning agent to assess their progress, and presence of post-traumatic stress. But most of all, the senior agent, should assure the returning agent that there are sometimes PTSD symptoms, which naturally lessen, as they slip once more into the normality of fieldwork. But each case is individual because we all react to trauma in our own way…and although there can be common after effects, the severity of these common elements again vary from person to person." Gideon smoothly stated, as if giving a lecture at the Bureau's Academy.

Hotch thought about the words and wondered if they had covered the criteria for monitoring… 'Had they monitored Elle properly? or J.J.?…and then there was Reid?' Hotch felt cold, Tony had been right…this was about monitoring the team and there was nothing he could do to help because Hotch wrote his report on team performance after each case. Gideon wrote his own report on the team and if he told Hotch his concerns about an agent then, as Unit Chief, Hotch also noted it into his report.

"And you feel you tried to help Greenaway's return?"

"As I stated earlier, Elle Greenaway, pushed herself back into the team so I couldn't speak to the team before hand. But I thought the team responded well to her personality and everyone tried to make her feel comfortable back at the BAU."

"Did you feel you prepared the team better when Agent Jareau returned?" Arthur suddenly asked.

"Yes, I think I did, because we knew when she was returning. I was able to call the team together and discuss our need to be patient and re-assuring should she appear anxious or nervous in any way. I think I managed to speak to her most days, even if it was sometimes when she was making coffee. But we were also not immediately on a case so she had a couple of days to re-adjust to being back."

"Did you remind the team of her experience before her return and that she might experience flash backs and that this was normal? Did you mention that she might have problems sleeping and to be patient if she was not immediately her usual efficient self?" Arthur persisted and Hotch wondered where this was leading…

"Yes, like I said, the team was well briefed for Agent Jareau's return."

"Now lets consider the return of Agent Reid. Did you brief the team about his return?" Arthur asked quietly, but it was obvious that the questioning had now passed on to him for the time being.

"No…he returned when we were on a case."

"But you didn't bother to use some of the plane journey home to brief the team?"

"No, we were all tired, we were working one man down and we did miss Reid's contribution. Hotch had told the team when he had been texted of his return and Garcia let us know he was back aswell. On the way home, I think we all caught up on some sleep, in my case, after doing the reports."

"So you didn't put aside any time to remind the team of the trauma that Reid had experienced and the need to be aware of signs of post-traumatic stress?" Arthur continued in his quiet way.

"The whole team knew what had happened to Reid…we had watched much of it so they were aware of what he went through. But Jareau had experienced trauma alone and I had told the team about her experiences, but as I said, I didn't feel it needed to be repeated in Reid's case. None of us will ever forget what we witnessed and how helpless we felt at times in our efforts to find Reid."

"I see, but did you speak to Reid alone when you returned, to assess him for yourself?" Arthur asked in his gentle manner.

"No, I thought as he'd spent two months under intensive therapy at the Clinic and continuing counselling before his return that he wouldn't want me asking probably the same questions. I judged that, because Reid is a very private person, I would observe and not subject him to more questioning. He'd been away 5 months and it would take him some time to slip into the BAU routine again. I was not particularly worried because after all, you people had used him on the Washington office psych evaluations and you would not have done that unless you thought him balanced enough to be doing the work,"

'Touché!" thought Hotch, but he was beginning to see how Gideon's behaviour could be misunderstood.

"Did you check his personal and medical records when he returned?"

"Of course, and I noted all the counselling he'd received and how he'd refused anti-depressants because he didn't want his mind clouded in any way. Also that he'd been regularly having drug tests and they'd all been clean."

"Was that all you noted?" Arthur pressed.

Hotch thought that Gideon looked a little puzzled but Arthur clarified his question further.

"Did you notice anything different about his personal file?"

"Oh you mean that he'd changed his contact name in case of injury or death. Yes, I thought that it was far better for him to have a personal friend outside the team," Gideon smiled. He was not going to show any irritation that he was no longer the contact person, afterall, it was a sign that Reid had gone out and found someone he trusted to be on the list.

Arthur continued this line of questioning. "You didn't talk to him about these changes?"

"No, why should I? Reid is allowed a personal life and I was pleased to see that he'd found someone he trusted to be on his contact list who lived in Virginia."

"But it might have been an opening for a conversation…perhaps to explore what he'd been doing during his sick leave or how he felt about the continuing drugs tests?" suggested Arthur reasonably.

"Why would he want to talk about the drug tests? If they had been a problem in anyway then he would not have been allowed to do the advanced psych training and certainly not allowed back in the BAU…Reid is a genius, he would accept the logic of the testing and not get hung up about it."

"You didn't make a point of having a personal talk with Reid while on the Westchester County case?" Arthur persisted.

"No," Gideon replied, but Hotch thought that he detected a hint of annoyance in his tone.

"You didn't ask to specifically work alongside him?"

"No, he was kept in the precinct and Hotch was keeping an eye on him there while I was needed out in the field."

"There is no mention in your report that you worked alone with Reid on the Houston case,"

"That is correct," stated Gideon.

"Did you find the time to talk to him?"

"No,"

"Why not?"

"We were under pressure to find the unsub…it's always the same once a case is underway, there is little time for personal chats," Gideon said and again Hotch thought that the mild Arthur was managing to get under Gideon's collar. But Hotch also thought back to the conversation with Barry that morning, and his comments about how the team worked with such an intensity that everything else seemed to be excluded.

"But did you talk to Reid on the plane home?" Arthur pressed.

"No, I didn't," Gideon answered with studied patience.

"But the case in Houston was in essence about a former soldier with untreated PTSD…didn't you think that might upset Reid?" continued Arthur.

"Reid appeared to be coping well with the case. We were all upset with the outcome…I didn't think that Reid needed to be singled out for special treatment," said Gideon.

Hotch was horrified, Reid had pointed the team in the direction of PTSD and then he and Prentiss had verbally joined the dots. They had all been so wrapped up with the case that they forgot that their fellow team member was suffering from post-traumatic stress too.

"But Agent Hotchner stated in his report," Arthur broke off to look at his notes, "'Reid was very snappy with Agent Prentiss on the plane and obviously didn't want to be working with her. I intervened and ordered that the two work together. While at the precinct, Reid ignored Prentiss and continued to work on the geographical profiling on his own. He was very irritable during this day but his contributions were relevant to solving the case. I asked Agent Gideon to keep an eye on Reid and to ask him how things were going?' Did you talk to Reid?"

"No, the case moved very quickly and we were all upset with the outcome. I noticed that Reid spent most of the plane journey home asleep and as he didn't look as if he'd been sleeping well, I thought it best to leave him," replied Gideon, but he was suddenly remembering how isolated Reid had seemed to be on that trip.

Suddenly Erroll interjected, "You say that you noticed the signs that Reid didn't appear to be sleeping well, but you didn't make the effort to speak to him over this matter?"

"No, like I said, we were all working flat out and we all ended up tired," Gideon justified.

"But poor sleep patterns are one of the generally accepted manifestations of PTSD…didn't this alarm you?" Erroll persisted.

"Despite Reid's obvious tired appearance, he was coping well with the case and contributing well." Gideon said to justify his actions.

"Agent Hotchner spoke to Reid coming in to land and noted in his report that the agent had been in Richmond when he'd been called in and had only had 4 hours sleep on top of 3 generous brandies…But you didn't bother to find out for yourself?" Erroll continued the questioning.

"All agents are entitled to a private life and Hotch had said that Reid was going to be late getting to the briefing because he had a long drive…To be honest, I was pleased that it showed Reid really did have friends outside the unit."

"Out of interest…were the other agents informed that Reid was going to be late?"

"Well I didn't say anything and I don't recall Hotch mentioning it…we were just concentrating on the facts of the case."

'Oh shit!' thought Hotch, 'I should have said something to the team but forgot,' and he remembered how the team had looked at Reid when he entered the room. 'But who has Reid been speaking to about all of this?' he mentally asked himself.

"Did you know of other times that Reid had drunk alcohol?" Erroll asked.

"Agent Reid is a man and he was off duty. I've never known Reid to drink excessively and he has certainly never arrived for work drunk or reeking of alcohol," Gideon said firmly because he didn't want this board to get the idea that Reid always turned up late looking wasted.

Erroll looked at Don who took that to be his cue to begin another set of questions.

"Did you make an effort to partner Reid on the New Orleans case?" began Don.

"No," said Gideon letting his annoyance show through, "He'd been to Washington State on his own to interview the dying Clark Norton…I think that boosted his self confidence about being back at work because he seemed to be working more like his old self."

"You didn't think him unusually quiet or withdrawn?"

"He was quiet on the plane going, but I overheard him talking to Agent Morgan about an old friend, who lived in New Orleans, and he was considering trying to find the time to see him," replied Gideon.

"You didn't think that this was an opportunity to strike up a conversation with the agent…because it's disturbing to us that you seem to be avoiding talking to Agent Reid on a personal level. You made a point of chatting to Agent Jareau on the plane and when she was making coffee…but you don't find time to talk to Reid, why not?"

'Yes. Why not?' thought Hotchner who was himself exasperated by Gideon's attitude to Reid after his return to the Unit. He had not put down all the times he had asked Gideon, in passing, to talk to Reid and now felt that Gideon did have to answer for his behaviour.

"There was never the time…we were always concentrating on a case or just so tired that people, including Reid, were asleep. I don't think you people appreciate the pressure that the team works under when on a case. Jareau was easier to speak to because she's not a profiler, and although she does help us with our cases, her contribution is not that of a profiler. We are a hard working breed…we have to work quickly and intently and it does leave us working on our reserves of adrenaline…Once a case is over, we're often too tired to even chat, let alone play chess or cards these days. We've been working too many cases recently. We think we have a free weekend only for some case to occur and the Bureau orders us on to it. There's only one team. We've tried running a second, but it didn't work that well. The truth is that we've not had the time to recuperate from all the cases we've had in the past 8 months, and for 5 of those months, we didn't have Reid's help." Gideon spoke with a familiar passion.

Hotch wondered if the Deputy Director was here really to assess the efficiency of the team under pressure. He thought about the idea Max had been pressing for behind the scenes and hoped that this would be leverage for more down time.

"That may be so but suddenly, in the middle of the case, Agent Reid failed to answer a call, from a fellow agent, which were orders to go to Galveston. You didn't seek Reid out to speak about this matter when you found out?"

"No…not until after the case…The case was important not whether Reid was deliberately not answering his cell. Our concern was to prevent another murder."

"Is it not the case that you were finally forced to speak to Reid because, by not answering the call, the agent was refusing to take an order…" Don quietly challeged the senior profiler.

"He said he didn't have any reception."

"But didn't Reid admit to you that he'd deliberately not answered the call?" Don countered.

Gideon realised that he was in a difficult situation, he didn't know just how much or what Reid had said to Don, so he decided on the truth, "Yes,"

"But you already knew that, didn't you?" pressed Don.

"I suspected it," Gideon conceded.

"Why did he do it?"

"He wanted to talk to his friend."

"Gideon you knew he was struggling…" Don stated quietly.

"Yes, to deliberately not answer a colleague's call while on a case…he was struggling," Gideon conceded.

'You bastard!' thought Hotch, 'You left your protégé swinging in the wind deliberately and these people know what's really been going on…'

"Gideon, we think you deliberately avoided confronting Reid until you were forced to by Reid's actions. The incident was sure to be noticed by the Unit Chief and be entered in his report, even if Hotch gave the agent the benefit of the doubt because he'd never done anything like that before. Well, when you did finally speak to Reid…what did you say?"

"You've read my report," Gideon coldly replied.

"I'm asking you to clarify what you said because your report on the matter merely states… 'Reid and I discussed why he had missed the plane to Texas and Reid assured me that he would never miss another plane again' You obviously considered the matter closed after your talk."

"Yes, I did, I felt the matter was closed and that Reid would not do that again," Gideon repeated.

"But what did you say?" persisted Don.

"Well, I can't remember the exact words… But I was trying to convey that the doubts he was having about his ability to do the job were normal, considering what he'd been through."

"I see, but we as a Mental Health Team have been very concerned with how Agent Greenaway was dealt with and we particularly have been concerned for Agent Reid, who went through considerable trauma,"

"I know, we as a team witnessed a good part of it," replied Gideon icily.

"And you still believe that you have supported this returning agent?" pressed Don.

"Yes, considering the work load we were all under, yes, I did my job," Gideon replied.

"Gideon the Mental Health Team have been concerned for some time, but especially since the Garner case, that your monitoring of the team has fallen short of the level we would expect of a senior psychologist like yourself. We've compared the reports on the team by Agent Hotchner and put them alongside your own. We've also looked at the psych evaluations of the team members who seem reluctant to say anything about your role with the team, which does not bode well for team communications. We have a nagging suspicion that you have become distant from the present team because of lingering problems over loosing your team in Boston…"

"Oh not that again…You're the ones who put me back in the field!" Gideon interjected, letting his impatience surface.

"Yes, we did," said Max, calmly taking over, "But, you were destabilised more than we realised by the Garner case and you have been increasingly reluctant to interact on a personal level with the team. You watched Greenaway from afar. I suspect you saw what was happening, but you didn't intervene until she was insubordinate to Hotch…and could have been on report. Likewise with Reid, you saw what was happening, but you didn't go near him until he had failed to take a call…which could have lead to disciplinary action."

"I disagree," Gideon said calmly, "This is a matter of interpretation with the benefit of hindsight."

"Gideon you have told us that you checked Reid's records so you knew his nearest stated contact number was Dale City. With Agent Jareau, there was a supportive boyfriend, but Reid as far as anyone knew from the records, was on his own. Let me make this plain, Reid had no one at home… but you still did not make the effort to reach out to him. This was the man you had persuaded the Bureau to accept at 21 to be your protégé, but you've only ever interacted with Reid on your own terms. Gideon, you failed to deal with the issues arising from his childhood, which was required in order to make Reid a better man and therefore a better psychologist. It's fundamental for a psychologist to know himself, and to face his own issues, before he can be really effective in this profession," said Max in a quiet, but commanding tone.

"We talked about the bullying. Reid is brilliant, he's capable of using his knowledge to work out his problems and we're all entitled to a private life," interjected Gideon angrily.

"Oh that bullying was his smoke screen, Gideon, there were far more important things going on," replied Max calmly, with the knowledge of one who knew such details.

"Like what?" challenged Gideon, but Hotch felt that he should not have baited Max in that tone.

"His attachment disorder, we spent time dealing with that and why didn't you tell him about what was in his file about his mother's drug taking at Berkeley?"

"I assumed he would know about it" Gideon spat back.

"From whom? His father was dead and he was the only child of only children and no living relations. It gave him another perspective to think about, as there was no evidence of any schizophrenia on either side of his family. It's possible that Diana Reid's own experimentation with the Berkeley drug scene, in the early 1970's, was her own undoing. But you actually know very little about Reid considering that you have known him the longest in this room," stated Max evenly.

"I don't see the relevance of all of this?" Gideon challenged.

"But Gideon, it is a senior psych's job to know the team and to have the team's trust but, considering that Reid has been known to you for 5 years, as a psych you did not address his problems and you do not know him that well." Max patiently replied.

"We're all entitled to our private lives, Max. Reid is very private and I've always respected that, but I think I know him pretty well,"

"What musical instrument does he play?" Don suddenly asked.

"I don't know, he never listed one on his application form, and has never spoken about playing an instrument," replied Gideon.

"What's the significance of the purple silk scarf?" asked Arthur mildly.

Gideon looked lost for words and shrugged, "It can't be that important if he has never wanted to say."

Hotch was puzzled, it was more than obvious that Reid had done a lot of talking at the Clinic and these psychs had provided a lot of healing along the way. The outcome was a Reid who was more confident to be himself and less inclined to hide behind the geeky nerd image. Gideon had not adjusted to the new Reid and Hotch was worried that the new Reid might not fit in with the team any more.

"Do you know why Reid is afraid of the dark? You see while Reid was in the Clinic we worked hard to gain Reid's trust and he opened up quite a lot, but he only did that because we opened up to him…We treated him like a colleague, like an equal. We told him something of ourselves and he reciprocated. The effect as been interesting because the Reid that has returned is the one who was just waiting in the wings to emerge on the stage, but he was just held back by the unresolved emotional baggage he was carrying," explained Don, with a patience and a lingering sadness, as he seemed reluctant to have to make these points to Gideon.

For Hotch, it just further confirmed how much they had relied on the superficial persona that Reid hid behind…He thought he'd seen a glimpse of something more on the plane when he had woken Reid for the landing. There was still the very sensitive, and at times vulnerable man because of that empathy, but this was a man who had friends who cared about him…and who was Jo?

But Hotch noticed that Max had begun to speak once more in a very formal tone…

" Dr. Gideon, I will tell you something that only two other people know in this room. When Agent Reid, left the Clinic, we were so concerned about him being on his own, and no friends on his contact form in this area… that Arthur, Don and myself gave him our personal cell numbers to use if he felt, at any time, he needed to talk. Before he returned to the BAU, a fourth senior member of the Mental Health Team, without our knowledge, also gave Reid their personal cell number because they had been concerned about how Greenaway had left and wondered about the support given to her. Reid never used those numbers until he was back at the BAU. He rang Arthur when he returned from the first case, in Westchester County, Don after the Houston case and me after your so called chat in the New Orleans bar…He was quite upset about the psycho babble you spouted because it just confirmed his fears. He told me that he had deliberately not answered his cell to force you to speak to him…Reid felt you were treating him just like you left Elle, until she could have been on report. Dr. Reid is a very good psychologist and a very compassionate man…that compassion could one day be the death of him, if he's not careful."

Hotch felt as if a bucket of ice had been tipped over him. He looked at Gideon who was totally stunned. Some members of Senior Mental Health Team had known what was going on all the time because they were supporting Reid… they knew that Gideon was failing to monitor the team properly. The room was silent; Rosa and Erroll obviously had not known about the personal cell numbers and the Deputy Director was looking totally out of his depth. Hotchner knew that it broke all the rules in the book, but they had done that for Reid…while the team had failed him. Hotch felt so angry towards Gideon because, as Unit Chief, he had trusted this man's assurances concerning Reid. Hotch was so sorry; he thought that Spencer Reid must have felt so isolated at times within the team. The Unit Chief felt he should have spoken to Reid, but Gideon was always saying, 'leave that to me, that's my job.' It would have been fine if Gideon had been doing his job…Now Hotch wondered if Gideon was going to have a job after this afternoon.

Max began to speak again…

"Your behaviour has had a more recent consequence and one that we had not anticipated. The team, or rather, Morgan, Prentiss and Garcia took matters into their own hands because they thought Reid was doing drugs. On one level you can understand that certain behaviour, which we would associate with PTSD, can be misinterpreted as drug use. On Friday evening these three decided to confront Reid, but finding he was not at home, staked out his apartment for several hours. Morgan returned after taking the women home and stayed overnight. Unbeknown to them, Reid had seen them and went on to stay with a friend for the rest of the weekend. Morgan continued to intermittently return to Reid's apartment block and even checked for his car in the usual psych car park this morning. Finding it wasn't there, they wanted to check if his advanced training was cover for re-hab…so Garcia tried to access his medical records this morning…"

Gideon looked at Max in utter disbelief. It was as if all his confidence, concerning his knowledge of the team, had been sucked out of him. Hotch thought how old his friend looked at the news.

"Has Garcia been dismissed?" he managed to ask, but the voice had none of its former strength.

"No, Hotch got her to admit why she did it, but she is suspended for two weeks and she has been demoted on the career scale. The other two agents are suspended pending a disciplinary enquiry into their actions," replied Max, but Gideon felt drained as the full force of the implications, of their behaviour, unfolded before him. He had not briefed the team properly before Reid's return and had not spoken to Reid when he should have and as a consequence, the hot-headed Morgan had got the others into trouble. Gideon's mind raced, this was all his fault…he had to take some responsibility for this…Then there was Hotch…were they going to even have a team for him to lead?

End of Chapter 20.


	21. Chapter 21

The In-Between Times: Chapter 21 

**by Helena Fallon**

Max observed Jason Gideon and Hotch noticed that there was a sadness, not a triumph, in his attitude which lead him to believe that some of the stories about their disagreements had been exaggerated.

"Gideon, we're not here to destroy you, we're here because we're concerned that you are 'burning out' on the job…and those were Dr. Reid's words to us on Friday when he came to record an informal statement. He felt like a traitor, but the psychologist in him knew that you needed to be helped because of the tremendous emotional strain of the work. You've said yourself, several times this afternoon, the work schedule of the team has been demanding. In my mind it is too demanding and I've been trying to make the upper echelons understand the consequences of working dedicated people into the ground. We're all aware of your commitment to your work and the successes you've had. The team is very loyal to you and don't want to loose you and your expertise…." said Max quietly.

Hotch breathed with some relief, it was obvious that Gideon was not going to be facing disciplinary action but he was curious to see if he was right about the reason for training Reid up.

"We feel that we have a case, particularly with what came to light this morning, that the whole team needs some down time…as two of its members are facing disciplinary hearings, we think it best to keep the team at Quantico for two weeks. We would like to use this time to give you some intensive counselling…If you refuse, the Mental Health Team would seriously have to consider removing you from fieldwork and restrict you to teaching…"

'Very reasonable,' thought Hotch, but was then concerned when Gideon did not show any signs of responding.

"Gideon, we don't want to remove you from the BAU team but we do want to offer our expertise…You can, of course, refuse…"

"Is this why you've been training up Reid?" Gideon suddenly asked in a flat unemotional voice.

"No…Over the past couple of years, several of his evaluating psychs have written personal notes to recommend the agent for advanced training. We Senior Psychs were already talking about it before Hankel kidnapped him. We then had a rare opportunity to get to know Spencer and deal with some deep-seated issues. We'd no idea how he was going to respond, but we were fortunate that we gained his trust at the Clinic, and he stabilised enough to begin the advanced training. However, what he did reveal during his counselling sessions were his observations of the team…and they were very thoughtful. He has an old head on very young shoulders; his insights and his compassion for his colleagues were interesting and confirmed things that we had only assumed to be the case. You shouldn't fear Spencer Reid taking over from you, he still believes that he has a lot to learn about criminal profiling and, as we both know, that knowledge only comes with practice but it can be at a terrible price. We want to stop you paying that price when we can help…If Reid completes his advanced group dynamics course then we could ask him to do this for the team as his on-going training, which would take one burden away from you…"

Hotch felt a wave of relief pass through his body and some of the tension he had been under since that morning disappeared. He could imagine Reid being very good at monitoring the team dynamics because he did it quite naturally with his sensitivity. It would also make the rest of the team realise that although Reid was the youngest, he was very capable and trusted by the Mental Health Team to undertake this important task. Max's team was correct, Gideon did need some of the burden taken from him and it would also give Gideon a bit more time to recover from the aftermath of cases.

"Gideon we don't want to remove you from the team where you are still needed but we're trying to remove some of the work away from you…a part that you've been really avoiding and we have to address those issues…" Max continued to patiently press the case.

"What did Reid say in his statement?" Gideon asked and Hotch wondered if he'd even been listening to Max at all but had been really mulling over Reid's part in all of this.

"I would like you and Agent Hotchner to sit with us and watch it, we don't wish to hide anything from you," Max said evenly, and Hotch thought how compassionately the Head of Mental Health Services was treating Gideon considering the failures that had been uncovered.

"Does Reid know that we would be allowed to watch his statement?" Gideon asked.

"We asked him after his statement if he would mind you or Hotch seeing it and he said no, in fact he thought it would be for the best so that you two would hear for yourselves what he'd said."

Hotch felt his heart fill with a pride for the youngest member of his team. Reid was not afraid to stand by what he had said and wanted this openness to keep the understanding between the two senior members and himself. It revealed a maturity that he hoped Gideon would recognise.

Gideon nodded but he felt so drained of energy that he wondered if he could take in any more that afternoon. He had to face the fact that he really had failed to help the youngest member of the team and it was his fault…he had totally misjudged Reid's needs. Perhaps he was beginning to burn out; it was something you rarely realised until it was too late. He had seen it happen over the years to other colleagues, the job could destroy relationships and you had to consciously make the effort to have a social life and interests outside of work. But he had managed to keep friends and interests outside the job and thought he was balancing the stresses well but now it seemed that he had been deluding himself.

"I think we'll go and organise a room so you can watch the statement…You and Hotch stay here and I'll send in some coffee…" Max said aware that they all could do with a bit of a break.

Hotch nodded and gave a weak smile, "Thanks, we'd appreciate that," he said, answering for both of them.

The Deputy Director and the psychs quietly left watched by Hotch. The Unit Chief turned to his old friend when they were alone.

"Are you all right?" Hotch asked gently, he was concerned at how subdued Gideon seemed and thought he had aged a good ten years during this meeting.

"Garcia tried to access Reid's medical records?" Gideon muttered, still finding it hard to believe that she had been so stupid.

"Yeah, as soon as Barry came in to tell me that security had escorted her out, I knew that Morgan was involved but I had to speak to security first. They assured me that she'd not succeeded but even trying was usually dismissal. Don persuaded Watkins and Gilbey that the agents had asked Garcia to intervene because you hadn't been monitoring the team properly and the Mental Health Team would be dealing with that this afternoon."

"I'm sorry, Hotch, we've been so busy. I kept putting things off and making the cases the excuse. I had no idea that Reid was suffering so badly…I mean to have used those personal numbers…He respects others privacy, he really must've needed to talk. I always thought his brilliance would serve to help him through the worst of the post-trauma…you know, that he'd be able to reason it out for himself," Gideon said sadly, shaking his head in the disbelief of his own accumulative actions.

"Well, at least you're not on report…so I've still only got 2 agents going towards a disciplinary board," said Hotch, as he remembered how many times Gideon had told him 'he's a genius…Reid will be all right' over the past couple of years. But Reid hadn't been all right and Gideon had mis-read his protégé. The trouble was everyone had trusted Gideon, including himself, because of Gideon's tremendous reputation but now Hotch began to wonder if he should watch Gideon far more carefully in the future.

"They seem to be treating me very well, all things considered…they could easily have pushed for disciplinary measures," Gideon said, amazed at the compassion shown towards him.

"Max has been concerned about our workload for sometime and he's using that to give you some space here so try and meet him half way Jason," said Hotch, hoping that Gideon was not going to start fighting Max over any help he put the senior profiler's way.

"I don't really have any choice, do I? That was Max really saying that if I don't co-operate then I'm grounded until retirement," Gideon ruefully admitted. He knew that was Max using the fist in the velvet glove treatment and it was Max who had the upper hand in this.

"Well, if you'd been in Max's position, what would you've done?" Hotch asked, trying to gauge his friend and colleague's mood. Hotch thought that Max was trying to help this man so he could reach retirement with his reputation intact. But Gideon could be stubborn if he disagreed with anything and Hotch hoped that he would accept Reid taking over a part of his duties gracefully and not put obstacles in the way.

Gideon shrugged, he didn't really know what to say; he was still coming to terms with the fact that he had failed Reid. However, despite his failures, Gideon was aware that he was still being given the chance to continue with the team.

There was a knock on the door and Hotch strode over to open it. A middle-aged, maternally rounded, blond haired woman came in. She was neatly dressed, in a navy skirt that was a mid-calf length and an unfussy baby blue silk blouse, and carried a tray of coffee and cookies with a warm open smile. Hotch imagined that she was somebody's secretary who kept the wheels smoothly oiled in this department and was a trusted listening ear to many.

"Thank you, that's lovely," Hotch warmly said, as she placed the tray on the table and then quietly disappeared to allow them their privacy once more.

"I wonder what Reid said?" Gideon mused as he came to pick up a mug. He was feeling very old…perhaps he ought to retire now. But then a stronger inner voice reminded him that he had a job to do…they had solved the crimes required of their expertise, it was just Reid whom he had neglected.

"Well, he obviously isn't afraid for us to see it and knowing Reid it will be thoughtful and honest," Hotch said, proud that he had brought the problem to the attention of the Mental Health Team despite leaving himself open to allegations of betrayal. It took maturity and a sense of duty to his profession, and the safety of the team, to have deliberately brought this to a head by drawing the fire to himself to bring attention to the problem of Gideon's failings.

Don came to collect them some 30 minutes later and they went to another nearby room with a similar décor and comfortable chairs, arranged in a semi-circle, around a wall-mounted screen. Once the group was all seated, Max began to play the recorded interview. Hotch had Charles Reardon seated to his left and he thought how subdued the Deputy Director seemed to be. Reardon was usually a man who sided with Gideon over issues, but Hotch sensed that his perception of Gideon had been badly shaken by that afternoon's events. The Deputy Director was not making eye contact with the senior profilers perhaps because he wanted to give the screen his whole attention so he could make up his own mind on the matter.

The screen came alive and the camera concentrated on the young man, but there were 4 psychs with him who occasionally asked questions for clarification or to help him remain on topic. At the beginning of the session, these psychs had formally introduced themselves but it was Spencer Reid who held the floor.

As Hotch watched the screen, he saw a dreadfully thin young man, who spoke eloquently about the aftermath of his Hankel ordeal. He explained how he struggled to cope with the first case back, especially as his girlfriend had left the country to attend a friend's wedding and then planned to stay a few weeks in Europe, as her vacation for that year. Reid explained how throughout the case, he had suffered flashbacks of being a victim himself and although the psychologist inside him told him that this was a normal reaction, it had still disturbed him. Morgan had asked him what was wrong on the plane home and he tried to explain how he felt about the crime scene photographs. Reid had recognised that, in his own fumbling way, Morgan had tried to say that he wasn't expected to just bounce back into the work again and it was just empathy Reid was feeling which was a good thing. However, he couldn't settle when he got home. It had disturbed him so much that he had rung Arthur who came to talk to him immediately, and re-assured him that the flashbacks were normal under the circumstances. But he stressed that had been waiting for Gideon to speak to him since his return.

"What did you think Gideon might say?" Erroll asked.

Reid had shrugged his bony shoulders, "I guess I thought Gideon would ask me what I'd been doing with myself over my period of sick leave. I think, deep down, I wanted to tell him about how I'd finally met a friend's sister and she was very special and part of my recovery. No one at the BAU actually asked me what I'd been doing during my 5 months away, but every one did say that it was good to see me back. Then suddenly, we were on a case and we all had to concentrate on that. Morgan made a point of sitting near me on the plane and on the return flight asked me what was wrong…I tried to explain about the crime scene photographs triggering my own memories of being a victim. Except part of me didn't want to appear struggling to adjust to the work and another part knew that Gideon seemed to be leaving me on my own. I was aware that Hotch and Gideon were observing me while on the case, but I kept thinking back to Elle and wondered if she'd felt so isolated by her near death experience."

Hotch had glanced at Gideon and saw him transfixed by the scene. Hotchner had an insane thought that perhaps this was like the wedding guest in the Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner who was transfixed as he heard the tale told to him. Only this was not a mariner, who had played dice with Death, but their own Reid…who should not have faced the torture he was subjected to…

Hotch felt as guilty as Gideon for not asking about Reid's sick leave, but he reminded himself that he had done the right things as a leader of the team. A memory surfaced that he had managed that rare conversation on the way home after Houston and that salved his own conscience a little. He tuned back into the statement…

"The Houston case was difficult. I'd only had 4 hours sleep and had been at Jo's parents for Sunday lunch. Craig was called away to the hospital on an emergency so his wife, Melinda, was pleased that I stayed to help with their lively daughter. The bad weather led me to accept the spare room and of course Alan…Jo's father, got me in his study to talk over brandy. I drove from just outside Richmond on a headache, which was not helped by Alan's generous brandy…I'd forgotten what a hangover could feel like…the last one I had was after my 21st."

"But Hotch knew you were going to be late?" Erroll pressed.

"I'd told Hotch I would be coming in from Richmond way when he called, but everyone stopped to look at me when I arrived. Anyone would have thought that I was persistently late. I noticed how Gideon had positioned himself in the conference room to observe the whole proceedings…Anyway that day was not my best…I was snappy and very sharp with Prentiss, who was the last person I wanted to be working with at that moment…but Hotch insisted. I did get to do some field work this time but it was with Prentiss."

"Who would you have liked to have been with?" Rosa asked.

"It would have been good to have worked with Gideon, but he seemed to be as distant from me as on the previous case. Even on the plane, he made no effort to strike up a conversation or ask how I was feeling but he was observing me. I noticed that Hotch observed me quite a lot when we were at the precinct but I ended up being with Prentiss. I really should apologise to her because she did try to talk to me and I...I was so rude to her and she was right to criticise my behaviour that day."

"Have you always had a problem with working with Prentiss?" Arthur asked.

"No…before the kidnapping I was fine but I found her eagerness and her trying to fit in the team annoying when I returned…It just irritated me in a way it had not done previously, it was probably part of the post-traumatic stress together with the slight hangover. It's always difficult for a new member to fit in to a tight work group, like the BAU team, so I understood her actions but when I returned, because of my own adjustment problems, I didn't have the patience like before. But she was the only one to ask me out right on that case…what was wrong with me and I resented that, I wanted, and knew, that should have been Gideon's role and he was avoiding it."

"Do you think Prentiss is a good agent?" Don asked.

"I thought her unannounced arrival in the unit was strange but she's hardworking and I think she's a very caring person. She does have the potential to be a valuable member of the team, but I've been away 5 months so she's no doubt proved her worth in my absence. She seems to get on very well with Morgan; they're of a similar age and enjoy reading the same kind of books. But her pushiness…well it's the classic over achieving, only child of very demanding parents, who really wanted a son, and she has never felt good enough. Prentiss just has to be the best at everything she turns to but I think the BAU has been an eye opener for her…"

"In what way?" Rosa asked.

"The actual work and the punishing time schedule…the cases we deal with…its not just the crime scenes. We have to get inside the heads of the victim and the unsub which means we also get closer to all the families involved. It takes a lot of adjustment after normal law enforcement; our work is far more intensive. To do it well, with all have to be empathic in order to put ourselves in the role of the victim and the perpetrator to be able to quickly produce the profile the police are waiting for."

"It takes its toll, you mean?" Erroll continued to probe on this theme.

"Of course it does, at the end of a case you have to learn to switch off, or try to, or you would go mad beating yourself up on the cases you didn't manage to solve or were too late to prevent a death. We're human beings and a lot is expected of us when a Police department calls us in. We have to work sensitively around those officers, some of which may recent our presence, because by asking for us some think that's admitting failure. I think part of our role is to re-assure that we've an expertise that most police departments don't have. We need to use their local knowledge and people on the ground and stress that's an important part in our understanding of the crime in order to produce the profile. A profile only narrows down the suspects, but we still need their police work to implement any ideas we come up with."

Hotch heard the words and thought how well that really summed up their work in the field. He thought that perhaps Reid ought to do the occasional lecture to the raw recruits about the BAU's role in law enforcement.

"How do you switch off, Spencer?" Rosa asked.

"With music and I have interests in art, science and literature…I go to open lectures, exhibitions, concerts…I play Go, and because of my memory I get involved in charity quizzes. I like the graphic art of comics…now they are another clique of wonderful people!" Spencer broke off and grinned at the surprised look on Rosa's face, "I try and see friends I've made despite the job usually interrupting arrangements. I now have a girlfriend who is learning how to cope and she has a very supportive family…so you see I do have a world outside the BAU."

"So you've done a lot of things while on sick leave?" enquired Erroll.

"Yeah, it was an opportunity to see people without the fear of the call into work, and it was good to feel part of a wider world and not just the one at Quantico. But also I found people who were surprisingly supportive without being intrusive. There were people I knew through my various interests who realised I wasn't well but didn't pry as they invited me to meals. It helped me to resist hiding away from the world like a wounded animal. Jo was a victim of crime and her family were aware through her experience of the problems of PTSD and they have been very understanding of my anxieties, flashbacks…you know I felt accepted really quickly into their family unit."

"So you really had quite a lot to tell Gideon if he'd asked?"

"Look, the guidelines make it quite clear what the role of the team's senior psych is with a returning agent. I was expecting Gideon to strike up a conversation with me because that's the natural way to assess how a returning agent is coping…It was upsetting, not one of my colleagues has asked me what I'd done with my time despite all those months off sick? How would you have felt, Rosa?" Reid mildly asked.

Gideon flinched; it was true…the whole team had been afraid to talk to Reid on a personal level because they had probably been waiting for the senior psych to take the lead. He had not followed the guidelines and he would have to live with that…the whole team would have to live with it.

Hotch felt upset with the realisation that he too had not asked specifically about his sick leave time…and further recalled that he hadn't asked Elle either, but then she had very loudly complained that she couldn't stand anymore daytime television. Listening to this recording he was learning a bit more about the quiet genius who Hotch tended to use for his brilliant mind. He remembered re-assuring Reid that he wouldn't be immediately out in the field and he had kept him close on that first case and continued to watch his interaction with the team, so he had done certain things correctly. However, Hotch realised that he didn't even know what kind of music he liked and he could hardly criticise Gideon when he too didn't know what instrument he played.

Hotch tuned out of the statement recording and thought about how much he did know about the team. He knew about the information on their application forms and their personal files which included the Bureau's own searches into the individual backgrounds but he knew very little really. J.J. loved sport, particularly football, and she had won a sports scholarship which enabled her to escape her small town. Garcia was the computer expert who loved films and all things bright and extrovert and shared Reid's interest for Star Trek. He did know that Reid was an expert in comic art because he'd overheard him telling Morgan about wanting to go to a Comic Con and Hotch wondered if he was a collector. Morgan was a 'keep fit at the gym' sort of guy and enjoyed dancing, bars and partying generally. But he too had won a sports scholarship but injury prevented any professional career. Morgan obviously read novels because he'd heard him discussing them with Prentiss who also read a lot and he thought he had heard her say that she liked to go to classical concerts. Hotch had come across the Prentiss family early in his career and both parents were career diplomats who had travelled widely. Hotch had known Gideon for a number of years and knew he was an ornithologist and that he used to have an interest in steam engines. He was a good cook and when Hotch had originally trained in profiling, he was rumoured to enjoy dancing. But Reid…he was a chameleon, he was whoever you wanted him to be because of that vast memory of his and yet it also hid the real man. The one thing they all knew was that he appeared not to be an active sportsman. It was like Barry had said that morning …the Reid who had come back was no longer hiding behind the mirrors that had hidden his true self. What they had now was something nearer the real individual and Hotch wondered if he was going to be given the chance to get to know him. Suddenly Hotchner's attention was caught once more by the recording.

Don was saying, "So you deliberately didn't answer the call.

"Yeah, Prentiss rang 4 times but I needed to talk to Ethan. No one else had bothered to notice that Gideon wasn't doing his job so I sent up a distress flare by not answering my cell. The talk I had with Ethan was good, it helped me come to terms with whether I wanted to stay with the team or not. Ethan had walked away from an FBI career and made something of his life and I had to see if I wanted to do that."

"So you decided to stay…" Rosa concluded.

"For the moment, but there is more to life than profiling work. Jo and I have discussed things and if ever I wanted a change, she's prepared to leave her work to support me where ever I choose to go…"

Hotch and Gideon looked at each other, they had never heard Reid speak like this. On the screen was a man who had seen beyond the BAU.

"Could you see a time for leaving the BAU?" asked Erroll.

"Yeah, if my partner said she wasn't happy with the work load and that it was affecting our life together to the point of being destructive or if I began to burn out. There's a real danger of that for any profiler…it's the intensity of the work, it tends to take over and you do have to consciously make the effort to have a life outside the team. If that began to happen to me, I hope that someone would notice and have the guts to tell me if I was on the fast track to burnout…I think that is where Gideon is going at the moment."

"That's a very serious observation Spencer, you're going to have to explain yourself clearly," Don stated.

Spencer Reid nodded and took a few moments to gather himself before speaking once more.

"At the beginning of the Garner case, Gideon had his haven from the world of the horrors of our work, invaded by the sick mind of the unsub. It was totally unsettling for him, he thought he was safe there, and to have a severed head delivered to your door, when very few people knew the address of his cabin, must have been emotionally destabilising. We all make mistakes in our work, we're human and often as a team we're able to correct them and redefine a profile or redirect an inquiry. But Gideon, like the rest of the team, was exhausted, which was why we all had leave. Garner really got to all of us by using the personal details I'd revealed in letters to my mother. He was an intelligent man who managed to think a way into accessing the Bureau's computers, via Garcia's laptop, while playing on a fantasy site with her.

I'm sure Gideon had a panic attack…he tried to control it in front of the team but suddenly he'd left the conference room and Hotch was on his heels…Gideon escaped to his office and needed to be on his own for a while to compose himself."

Gideon felt sick; he had to concede that Reid's analysis of the situation was accurate. The memory resurfaced of suddenly having to escape the conference room because of the rising the panic. He had been running on adrenaline since the delivery of the head to his cabin and trying not to think about the effect of it all on his own sense of personal security. Then suddenly Gideon couldn't suppress the thoughts any longer and he had fled to his quieter office because he was overwhelmed by the sense that his one haven, where he believed he was safe from the sheer horrors of the job, had been violated and what had he left? Gideon shut off the painful memory and concentrated on Reid's words.

"But Hotch was to have his own world upset by his wife turning up with a message that had been given to her at their house. Gideon later decided to bait the unsub by doing the very opposite of what Garner had ordered. I think there was an element of anger towards the unsub in that decision for invading his private world. However, because Gideon didn't follow the rules, as Garner had lain down, Garner shot Elle.

But it wasn't as simple as that, Hotch had ordered the exhausted Elle home and told Anderson to take her. Anderson did as he was literally told, it was only when Hotch saw him later that Hotch told him to get back to Elle's home because he'd meant him to stay and keep her safe. By then it was too late…but you see what can happen when on top of exhaustion, an unsub unsettles a team by involving personal matters…The shooting was later to be thrown in Hotch's face by Elle on her last case with us. But it was from the Garner case that I particularly noticed how Gideon began to withdraw on a personal level from the team.

Gideon stayed at the hospital to be with Elle, but I think some of that was out of guilt because he had to justify to Elle that by not playing by the unsub's rules he'd drawn him out…but he'd not anticipated that Elle was going to be shot. Hotch ran the rest of the investigation, which with hindsight, was probably best because Gideon would have probably been focused on Elle even if he'd been with us.

When Elle returned, I saw that she was very brittle…she'd lost a lot of confidence. She tried to hide it, but one night, on her last case, we got to the hotel and the underground garage was full of shadows. She was the last of the group and I looked behind to see if she was all right, she said that she'd left her glasses in the car. I said that I would wait for her…but she suddenly changed her mind and said it didn't matter. But I felt she was actually scared to be there. I waited for her to catch up with me and we joined the others for a quick supper before going to our rooms. It troubled me to see her so anxious; I went to speak with her…she was drinking from the room's mini-bar. I got her to talk a little by accepting her challenge to join her in a drink…I think I surprised her, but I was the wrong person, Elle was having trouble sleeping and the occasional flashbacks…just like I had when I first went back.

I thought the flashbacks were getting better for me because, before I returned, when Jo began to stay with me at night…I slept better…I still woke up, but Jo was there to understand and re-assure. Elle didn't have a steady partner in her life; she was still in the throws of PTSD. She would never admit it to herself, but she was not really ready to be used as bait for William Lee. But at no time did I see Gideon approach her to talk to her and she told me that he'd not asked her about her recuperation since she'd returned. I saw her trying to be like the old feisty Elle, but she was very edgy and defensive. I was later told by Morgan and J.J. that they had tried to reach Elle but they had been pushed away…but at least we tried to reach out to her. With hindsight, I think I should have told Hotch or Gideon about my concerns for Elle and then things might have turned out differently but I can't turn the clock back. Gideon only intervened when they had to let Lee go and Elle was angry. She was out of order, but I understood why…Gideon finally intervened but it seemed too little, too late…Elle was not going to let Lee walk…"

"So you think she shot him?" Rosa pressed, and Hotch and Gideon both held their breaths.

"I was not there, she was cleared and it was logged as a clean shoot but I will always have my doubts…whatever happened, Elle has to live with her own conscience. I think Hotch had his doubts over the shooting aswell, which is why she didn't join us on the next case. But at the end of the day, where was the proof that Elle had deliberately shot Lee? No court was going to convict her without the evidence and she had a good service record until then," Reid carefully reasoned.

Hotch thought how well Spencer Reid had understood the situation and the dilemma he had faced over Elle. But he also thought that Reid's own guilt over not talking to the senior profilers about Elle, would make Reid more likely to understand the events of the weekend and that morning.

"So you think Elle's resignation was for the best?" Arthur asked gently.

"I think it was the best outcome with that situation. I don't think either Hotch or the rest of us, if pressed to give our opinion, would have been happy if Elle had stayed. We would have questioned Elle's judgement rather than trusting her and the one thing a team member has to do is trust a fellow agent with your back."

Hotch looked at Gideon and saw him nod slightly in agreement to the answer. Reardon seemed to be totally engrossed in Reid's statement but Hotch would still stand by his own actions, which he felt was for the good of the BAU and the Bureau.

"After Elle left, Gideon just seemed to quietly withdraw on occasions, he was less inclined to chat over the early morning mug of coffee, he still occasionally played chess on the plane, but then the cases began to get more frequent. It used to be one or two a month, then we were doing three and it began to take its toll on all of us. Prentiss joined us unexpectedly, and we had to get use to someone new…but again it wasn't like when Elle joined us. Gideon had spent more time talking to Elle and although he spent time talking with Prentiss and playing chess with her…there was not the same kind of frequency or even rapport about it. There was definitely a better rapport with Elle, I think, but the difference may have been because neither Hotch nor Gideon had any say in Prentiss's appointment."

Hotch looked at Gideon, whose eyes had a shrewd quality shining from them, He suddenly caught Hotch's scrutiny and smiled. The Unit Chief was relieved to see a smile because he knew that meant Gideon was pleased with their youngest agent's insight. Hotch too appreciated that the agent had seen a great deal and was joining the dots well. Aaron Hotchner knew that if Reid did start to monitor the group dynamics then he and Reid had to have complete trust in each other's assessment of what they observed. For his part, Hotch had always trusted Reid when they had worked beside each other and this recorded statement was confirming the qualities he had already seen in the genius.

"Anyway, we were adjusting to a new team member and then we were on the Hankel case. J.J. and I went together to the Hankel house and …well you know what happened…But even when the team reached me, Gideon held back; it was like he was observing me from afar; I wasn't a colleague but a clinical case study to be observed. It was only when the ambulance was on its way that I remember he wanted to help me get back to the road. I asked if I could have a few minutes alone with Hankel's body, I needed to get the bottles of drugs he'd been giving me and I put them in my pocket. My mind wasn't working at its best and my captivity was all beginning to catch up with me, I can't recall telling Gideon my reasons for my actions. Gideon and Morgan helped me to the ambulance; I was very tired. I remembered that it was Hotch who travelled with me and I gave him the bottles so they could be analysed. Then I think I passed out because so much is hazy.

I don't know how long it was, but when I woke up again, I was in a hospital bed and Gideon and Hotch were talking. I found out that Hankel had given me dilaudid and the hospital was debating what the best course of action was because I also had a head injury. I was put though detox and Hotch came to see me before leaving and I asked if I could have the bottles back. He brought them to me, empty of course, but I wanted them to be a reminder of what I'd succeeded in overcoming; even with the dehydration and the drugs in my system, I'd managed to give the team clues to where I thought I was. I still have those two bottles; I carry them in my bag. When I had my flash backs, while in Westchester County, I would look at them and remind myself that I had survived the ordeal; Hankel hadn't broken me and he wasn't going to from his grave."

Gideon remembered back to that night they had found Reid…When they had heard the shot in the darkness, the whole team had feared the worse and ran towards the sound with their weapons drawn. He had been constantly telling himself that he had made the correct decisions on the case, but his own dreams were haunted by seeing Reid confined to a chair while Hankel played Russian Roulette with his life to get him to co-operate with his schemes. Gideon had kept trying to re-assure the team that Reid was brilliant and he'd find a way to survive. But he'd also shut himself in the Hankel bathroom and paced as his own doubts, about how he'd handled the case, kept surfacing and he needed to keep clear headed to help find their youngest agent.

Gideon had watched with Garcia the events unfold in the shack and how Hankel had tried to post his sick deeds on the internet. Both he and Garcia had been caught up in a peculiar addiction of their own to keep watching, although they wanted it to be just a horror movie being transmitted on a television channel and not a reality show with real consequences. Gideon recalled the feelings that surfaced despite his efforts to deny their existence, that this young man was a similar age to his own son and he'd been his protégé…his young genius to train up to be the best profiler of his generation. Gideon feared that all Reid's potential was going to be lost because he'd made the field decision to keep track of Hankel. Perhaps he would have done the same in such circumstances, but the decision had lead to J.J. being traumatised, by what she had found in the barn and a fight for her own life in the dark, and Reid to be kidnapped.

When they had found the shack where Reid had been held, Gideon remembered the horror he felt that raced through his veins as he suspected Reid had been drugged and they knew that Hankel had been an addict as was probably still using. He knew Reid had been given something because of the illusions to it over the link that was fed to them and the actual look of Reid's eyes. Then he had found the suspicious belt and the syringe amongst Hankel's possessions.

Gideon recalled watching a rare display of tactile emotion from Reid as he had reached out to hug Hotch, who equally had needed the reassurance that their very sick looking agent was really still alive. He was amazed how the frail looking Reid had hugged J.J. and had the presence of mind to tell her that none of this had been her fault. But still the senior profiler in him was carefully observing because if Reid had been given dilaudid it was very addictive. He had seen him carefully take something from Hankel's trouser pocket and slip it into his own, it had seemed so secretive. Hotch had gone with him in the ambulance, but he later said that Reid had suddenly given him the bottles he'd taken from Hankel before he lost consciousness. It had helped the hospital recognise very quickly what he'd been given and it had lead to him having to go through a detox programme and the Clinic being the ideal place for him to be taken…

"I said that I didn't want any contact with the team while I was in the Clinic or on sick leave. I felt that they needed to be concentrating on the cases and not worrying about me. I don't know…perhaps that upset some of them, but I don't think it would have been helpful to either them or myself. They would have seen how thin I'd become and how anxious I was and I would have picked up on their distress. They just wanted me back and to be the same geeky Reid. However, although I'm now back, the whole experience has changed me and the team is still adjusting to that. I used my sick leave to do some positive things, which included making contact with the friends I'd made over the years and to make some new ones. I met my girlfriend; it was good for me to have that time not being at work because it meant that we could consolidate our relationship before going back to the stresses of the BAU.

I didn't go straight back to the BAU because I had psych evaluation training and I was then allowed to help with the Washington office evaluations. However, before I left the training department, Arnie spoke to me and expressed his concern about Elle's departure and said that he would always be there if I needed someone to talk to. But when I did return, the team was on a case in Michigan. Garcia came out of her office as soon as she knew I was in the department. She was so upset at how I looked, but she gave me a hug in her usual warm way but she couldn't hide the shock of the reality before her. The rest of the BAU were the same, all pleased to see me but very surprised at my appearance …so I suppose I should've expected the reception I got from the team when they got back. But what really shocked me was that no one wanted to know what I'd been upto…I suppose with hindsight, they probably thought I'd just been watching daytime television like Elle had done. But Gideon was so distant, if I'd imagined it after I was rescued then this was by contrast very real. There just seemed to be an invisible icy wall between us…"

Gideon's memories resurfaced and reminded him how he had gone to Arnie Truelove's office when he heard that Reid was being kept a few more days to help with the Washington psych evaluations. They had disagreed about Reid's readiness for doing proper evaluations so soon but Truelove had stuck to his position. Now with hindsight, Gideon was prepared to admit that he'd been wrong, here was a mature Reid who was evidently showing insight and consistency in his judgement. However, at the time, Gideon had felt that the psych evaluation team were trying to poach Reid from the BAU after all the training he'd been given…after all the effort he'd personally put into the training of the genius. But Gideon also had to admit to himself that he hadn't been very welcoming to Reid that first time after Michigan…had he really continued to keep him at a distance?

Meanwhile, Hotch thought back to Reid's return, he recalled him saying that he'd altered his contact number, but Hotch hadn't asked him specifically about what he had been doing with his time. He had personally been shocked by Reid's appearance and his whole attitude had changed; where there had once been openness, now he seemed so guarded. It was all a natural consequence considering what he had been through, but it still felt to Hotch that he had welcomed back a stranger to the BAU.

"Hotch called me into his office and welcomed me back saying that I'd not be thrown into the thick of things straight away, but I would probably be with them on cases because they'd missed my contributions. Hotch was very understanding and said that in the past he'd had 4 months off with sick leave and he it had taken him time to adjust back to work. I informed Hotch that I'd changed my contact number to a doctor friend of mine and that I used some of my time to look up old friends. But Hotch didn't pick up on the matter further. I went back to my desk and listened to the others unwind about their Michigan case. I had expected Gideon to call me into his office or come and join the informal discussion around Morgan's desk…but nothing happened, in the end I went home.

I've already mentioned the Westchester County and Houston cases, but to summarise, I felt the two senior profilers were watching me but Gideon was not interacting with me and I knew that wasn't right. I kept thinking back to Elle and I had to ring Arthur at the end of the first case and Don after the Houston one…"

"The Houston case disturbed you quite a lot didn't it?" Erroll probed, guiding the agent's thoughts back onto Gideon's behaviour.

"The whole team was upset by the outcome of the case. For me…I realised that the unsub was suffering from PTSD…everyone worked flat out to help the poor man, but we failed. Gideon was particularly quiet, Roy Woodridge had died in his arms, and he disappeared while we were clearing our things from the precinct. But Hotch obviously knew where to find him and they both joined us in good time for the flight home. I was exhausted. I also felt so alone on that case because the team had been focused on helping the unsub and were very sympathetic to his plight… But I was in the midst of them, I was still experiencing aspects of PTSD and no one noticed that I was suffering. I fell asleep on the plane and Hotch came to wake me for the landing…he sensed something was wrong and sat with me and we chatted lightly. He had done that since my return…you know the odd few minutes of light conversation, and it made a welcome change to the observation I knew I was under by the to senior members of the team. Hotch did understand that I was still having vivid dreams and he did ask me what I'd been doing Richmond way. I told him I'd been with friends and I'd ended up having 3 generous brandies and only 4 hours sleep. He sympathised with that but I didn't mention Jo…we were suddenly on the ground and everyone just wanted to get home and get in some rest. When I got home, I eventually rang Don because I needed to talk through what had happened and how I was coping with being back. I think things might have been a little better if Jo had been around but I didn't want to spoil her vacation, which had been arranged long before she had met me. Anyway, Don came round…I think he was curious to see my apartment because of what Arthur had told him…"

Arthur and Don chuckled in the background and Hotch wondered just what his agent's home was like…But he also felt guilty for rushing home himself after the plane landed, he'd missed an opportunity to support the young agent. However, he could understand from his account how Reid had felt so isolated from the team, they had all focussed on the case and ignored what was before them. Hotch thought back to the morning and Morgan's explanation for his behaviour, it had been wrong, but he had been caring. If Reid had been using drugs then the experiences of isolation and the PTSD, during the first two cases, could have been enough to tip him into trying to find an outlet for his emotional pain with drugs. Afterall, Hankel had escaped from his painful life though addiction and had given Reid the drugs to help him during his ordeal. But Hotch shut off the thoughts to turn his attention back to the statement…

"I then went up to Washington State to interview Clark Norton so I was well away from fieldwork. It was an unexpected bonus that Norton talked enough so the authorities could discover more victims. When I got home, I found that Jo had cut her vacation short, and spent extra money to get back, so we had a long weekend. I felt a lot more settled having Jo around, but as soon as I got in on the Monday we had the case conference about the New Orleans murders. Again I sensed Gideon observing from afar but he was not coming near me…I actually felt more like my normal self. I could cope with the crime photos and crime scenes without flash backs so I felt I was steadying once more into the work. Perhaps I was coping afterall and I had Jo back in my life and realised how much she meant to my stability."

"Spencer did anyone ask you about, or congratulate, you over the results you'd got from Norton?" Rosa interjected.

"As soon as I arrived, Morgan told me we had a case meeting, but he did say he'd heard about my successful trip. I don't remember anyone else saying anything… we had a case to consider and that was far more important than my achievements with a dying murderer," Reid said evenly, obviously feeling no slight in not receiving recognition for his efforts from the senior BAU profilers.

"But you said earlier that you needed to talk with Ethan…" Erroll prompted.

"Yeah, he's an old friend from my Las Vegas childhood, I mentioned to Morgan on the plane going that I was thinking of trying to see him while in New Orleans. I did meet up with him…and that's when I refused to answer my cell. Since Jo had returned unexpectedly, we'd spent the weekend doing some serious talking about our future together. I had down loaded the forms for her to start to fill in because we'd decided to live together and I was thinking about what I'd do if I left the Bureau. When I got back to the hotel, I saw J.J. briefly who told me that Gideon had sent Prentiss and Morgan to Texas and that I was supposed to be with them. I lied and said that I'd not had any reception and didn't get the call. I expected Gideon to come and see me that night, but he didn't come to find out why I'd not gone to Texas so I went to bed. Morgan and Prentiss were obviously pissed off with me the next morning and didn't believe my explanation."

Hotch smiled to himself at this agent's honesty, but also remembered distinctly telling Gideon to talk to Reid and find out what was really going on…Hotch tuned back into Reid's explanation of how he saw things.

"At the end of the case, I went to hear Ethan play before we left the next morning. As I was listening, Gideon came and sat beside me…and I thought, finally …he's going to start talking to me. I thought Hotch hadn't believed my explanation and I still might end up on report and here was Gideon finally forced to act…just like he'd been forced to act with Elle."

"Were you worried about facing a disciplinary board if Hotch had decided to punish you?" Rosa asked, curious to find how far this agent had thought out his strategy.

"Yes and no…I didn't want to face a hearing but I'd deliberately not answered my phone…But I could explain to a disciplinary board why and then Gideon would've had to explain his lack of contact with me over my returning period." Reid quietly explained.

Hotch felt his heart skip a beat…Jeez…Reid really had deliberately taken a risky path. He glanced across at Gideon and saw how old the senior profiler looked as his former protégé revealed his reasoning.

"What did Gideon say to you?" asked Erroll.

" As an opening, he said my friend was good…Then I told him that I'd missed the plane on purpose and he said, 'I know'. Part of me felt so angry that he had left it this long to just talk to me and that he'd left it to a public place! So I said, to make things perfectly clear…I said that I was struggling. Gideon then put on his fatherly counsellor tone and said… 'Well… anybody's who's been through what you've been through recently…would' and I felt really furious inside with that response, but I thought I'd try and clarify a bit more how I felt about things at that moment. So I told him that this was all I'd been groomed for and that I'd never seriously considered any other options…When I went to Princeton, to study psychology under Professor Donovan, he'd immediately said that I was suitable material for Gideon's team at Quantico. I was only 19 at the time and to have that put before me as an achievable goal was awesome…

So Gideon replies 'Now you're questioning whether or not you're strong enough to be here?' I agreed and then he started … 'I've been playing at this job, in one way or another, for almost 30 years. I've felt lost. I've felt great…I've felt scared, sick, insane…I don't know…I guess the day this job stops gnawing at your soul and your hands…your hands stop feeling cold…maybe that's the time to leave…'"

Hotch was spell bound at how well Reid could mimic his mentor…

"I just couldn't believe that this was a senior psych speaking to a young agent who had been kidnapped, drugged and tortured…these were his words to help me re-adjust back into the team. This was the great Jason Gideon who threw himself into cases and had a world-wide reputation. My alarm bells were ringing, this was a man who had himself experienced PTSD and I would have expected a much more appropriate response than this. I'd been treated as a psychologist and a colleague while in the Clinic and both Arthur and Don, and later Max, had made a particular effort to reach out to me but Gideon was hiding behind this ...psycho-babble nonsense! I thought that Gideon was afraid to care…he was terrified of getting close to the team because of the emotional cost to himself if they got hurt or died, like with the team in Boston. I couldn't believe this nonsense he'd spouted. How was Gideon going to help me when he was afraid to reach out to a fellow team member? He was different with total strangers he met on the job who were in distress, then he was all compassion and full of sympathy. I knew I had better and far more appropriate help at the end of a phone, so I shut down responding to him and retreated into myself and said that I was trying to see if I could step away from the job. Gideon said something like… 'And?' and I just replied that I would never miss a plane again.

But I was really worried because I knew that this was not the way to treat a returning agent who had been through a traumatic event and one who had really refused an order by not answering my cell. I concentrated on Ethan's performance and said no more about it. I introduced him to Ethan when he came over but Gideon left soon after, allowing us to say our goodbyes. But even Ethan noticed that something was wrong with Gideon's behaviour, but I said nothing when he remarked upon it…Anyway, when I got back to the hotel, I rang Max and confessed to him what I'd done and how Gideon had dealt with it. He made sure I was all right and said that he would make arrangements for me to have a drug test when I landed and then I was to go to his office...and then we came here...

I want Gideon to understand that he has been avoiding a part of his work and it could have had different consequences for me if I'd not had those personal cell numbers to fall back on…I've really appreciated, and needed, the support I received from Arthur and Don. I didn't have anyone to go home to after the first two cases so I needed to talk through how I felt and unwind from the stress of adjusting back. Then with my call to Max, he knew I felt like a traitor but he kept stressing that the Mental Health Team were going to try and help Gideon…so I agreed to make this statement in the hope that it saves his position with the team. There is no one else like Gideon when he's on a case and we all learn so much from working alongside him. But it's the job, I can see how he's beginning to burn out and I want to stop that, so he can still be part of the team, but I don't want him to get into trouble over not handling my return properly,"

The screen was full of the image of the young agent, who saw the flaws but was still pleading for compassion for his old mentor.

Hotch looked at Gideon, he was subdued and hunched over like all the cares of the world were resting on his slumped shoulders. Aaron Hotchner was appalled on hearing what Gideon had said to Reid in that bar, he had not even sought him out in his hotel room but a public place and that was so wrong. The very words were etched upon Reid's memory along with the disappointment and yet Reid still wanted to help this man who had failed him. Hotch wondered if they had done things differently, if Elle would she still be with them.But there was no going backwards, you had to deal with the here and now and work from this moment. Hotch noticed that Max had paused the recording.

"Gideon, are you all right?" the gentle Arthur asked, who was seated near him. He reached out to lightly touch Gideon's arm to get his attention. Gideon looked up with deep brown eyes that were full of unshed tears but he was just managing to hold on to his composure. He nodded his reply to Arthur and Max took control again and began to address Gideon.

"I think that is enough for the time being. It's almost at the end but that's the most relevant part for this matter. I have rooms set aside for Don and yourself at the Clinic. I think it would be best for you to get well away from Quantico for a few days and get some serious talking done. Meanwhile, I'll brief the hearings dealing with Prentiss and Morgan, but I think Morgan particularly will be facing censure over his behaviour. But you must try and concentrate on trusting Don…."

Max turned and nodded to the Deputy Director who looked quite shaken by what he had heard, but he managed to find compassion for his voice.

"Gideon, we don't want to loose your talents, please co-operate with these people and that way everyone will benefit," said Reardon and then rose and left after accepting Gideon's nod of assent.

Hotch thought how subdued the whole room was but there was no gloating over the failings of a famous man. Rosa and Erroll left soon after Reardon and Arthur went to secure the DVD of the recorded statement, so it would not fall into the wrong hands. Max caught Hotch's eye and signalled the door with a slight tip of his head. Hotch followed him outside leaving Don to have a few quiet words with Gideon.

"Is he going to be all right Max?" Hotch asked; he still cared about his friend even if his failings had been exposed.

"We'll try to help him …but the truth is that unless a patient opens up and lets us help, then there is only so much we can do. We psychs try to work with a person's strengths to enable them to understand and try and control their weaknesses…" Max replied quietly, "But are you all right, Hotch?"

"Yeah…so far it's been quite a day, you know this may sound a little odd, but hearing Reid's statement…I feel really proud that he had the guts to do that. It wasn't vindictive in any way but caring, wanting Gideon to receive help so he could continue…"

"Yes, Spencer Reid is a mature young man who has the potential to be an excellent profiler. We already know he's a very good psych…so if things ever get to a point when he wants to step away from those horrors he does have another home here."

"So you're not poaching him?" asked Hotch remembering Gideon's earlier comments to him on their way to Michigan.

"Hotch, Spencer Reid is his own person and will follow his own career wishes not anyone elses…We want him to occasionally do psych evaluations with us but that will be when you're at Quantico anyway."

"Are you going to tell Reid how things went and about what happened this morning?" Hotch asked Max.

"I'll go and see Reid, you can come with me if you like, but I don't want to mention what happened this morning yet…not until the disciplinary board has deliberated, do you agree?"

"Yes, I've told the agents to stay away from Reid, but you said that he was at Jo's?"

"Yes, look once Don has taken Gideon to the Clinic, we'll go to the training complex…Do you want to have a few re-assuring words with Gideon?"

"Yeah, I want him back despite all that's happened…" said Hotch and he walked back into the room.

Gideon and Don left together, Gideon agreeing that Don would drive him to the Clinic after he'd collected his 'away bag' from his office in the BAU. Hotch was pleased that he had gone back in to speak to Gideon and stressed that he and the team needed him back with them. But Hotch also thought how old his colleague seemed and knew that the realisation of what he had been doing was not going to be easily pushed into the back of his mind. Gideon had fallen short of his own exacting standards and he would find it hard to forgive himself.

After Gideon had left, Hotch went and found Max who was in the reception area near the elevators for that floor.

Max looked up from the bulletin he had been reading and smiled, "Don't worry, Don is very good…He would never open up to me…I used Don with Spencer too," he said softly.

"I thought you ended up having sessions with him?" Hotch replied as the pair stood waiting for the elevator.

"I assessed him at the hospital in Georgia and went to see him in the first few weeks at the Clinic but I knew he wouldn't respond to me for the intensive counselling. I chose Arthur and Don and it worked really well, then Don's wife had a mild heart attack and I had to step in at a crucial moment. However, all credit must go to my colleagues who did a tremendous job on breaking down his barriers. When I moved in, I had to give him something of myself aswell in order to get his trust. Fortunately it worked and I think we four all have a special trust between us because of that. I have a great deal of respect for Reid…he has been through a dreadful ordeal and I believe that he has come through that trauma much stronger and he's only just beginning to realise it."

The elevator deposited them on the first level and they began to make their way to the east wing of the building where the ' Mental Health Training' complex was situated. They seemed to have walked through miles of identical institutional corridors before reaching the outer doors, as they passed through the receptionist on the desk beamed a welcome,

"Hello, Max, what can we do for you…I thought you were not coming back until next week?"

"Pamela, I just couldn't stay away from your welcoming smiles…I wish every receptionist could have yours…"

" Flattery will get you absolutely nowhere with me…" the middle-aged Negro flashed her smile again, "You know I save my best ones for my husband!"

"And so you should…But I need your help…any idea where Dr. Spencer Reid is at the moment?"

She looked down at the bank of screens at the desk, "He's in room 6, off corridor B…They've finished for the day but the group is hanging around getting to know one another…"

"See, every department should have a Pamela," Max said to Hotch, as she flashed her smile again and watched the two men head towards the main corridor.

As they approached, Hotch saw that these rooms all had observation windows to allow the watchers to be unseen but to observe those in the rooms used for various aspects of psych training. Hotch stopped alongside Max and looked. Before them were 6 men, two were obviously service personnel because of their very short hair and bearing, but they were not wearing their uniforms, 5 were in smart suits in conservative colours of dark grey or blue and one was in black. Only Reid stood out by his youthful appearance, his long hair and casual dress…an indigo shirt and a crimson and black tiny checked silk tie. Hotch had never seen him wear those and he was wearing charcoal chinos to complement it all. He thought how well dressed he looked and more like an earnest young lecturer rather than the laid back look of Gideon's fatherly professorial image. However, suddenly Hotch was transfixed by the wonderful smile that suddenly lit up the room as Reid shared in some humorous exchange. He had only seen him smile once since he'd returned and that was the time as the plane came into land from Houston…but that had not been this totally open and relaxed expression.

"He looks happy doesn't he?" a new voice said and Hotch turned to see that the newcomer was Arnie Truelove.

"Yes…they all seem to be getting along well," Hotch agreed.

"Mmm, they really came together quickly…it doesn't always happen like that, of course, but ...well they have all been pleasant to work with today and I hope the rest of the week continues as its started."

"We need to speak to Spencer," Max said and Arnie nodded and went to the door.

As the door opened, Hotch recognised a voice…

"Look…my hair goes with my genius image!" Reid stated, but there was no mistaking the laughter in his voice.

"Now just think what our base barber would make of it…."

"Oh you can't cut his flowing locks…it's the ladies here, you know…it feeds their fantasies!" said Arnie interjecting and causing even more laughter.

"Fantasies!" squeaked Spencer as his voice rose and began to process this… "But my girl friend would be a little jealous of that one…" But as he turned to face Arnie, Reid's demeanour changed and he suddenly became serious as he saw Hotch and Max just outside.

"You've visitors, Spencer," Arnie said and Hotch felt the scrutiny of five pairs of eyes assessing him.

"Gotta go guys! See you all tomorrow," Spencer said as he made his way confidently towards Max and his Unit Chief.

He closed the door behind him and searched the men's faces.

"It's OK, Gideon has accepted help," Max said softly and Hotch saw Reid visibly release the tension from his body, and suddenly the usual loose-limb stance was back. Max turned and entered an empty room opposite. No one spoke again until they were well away from the door and they used soft tones with their backs to the observation window.

"Don has taken Gideon to the Clinic and the Deputy Director has agreed that the team is at Quantico for the next two weeks so they can get some rest with normal routine," Max summed up.

"How did he take it?"

"Gideon was shocked, he thought you wouldn't want him asking the same old questions that you've been facing with the counselling. He accepted that he'd not briefed the team and had used the work load as an excuse for not working with you in the correct way," Hotch replied, "Gideon's very sorry and well aware that he could be under disciplinary measures, I think he was surprised not to be…"

Reid nodded thoughtfully but seemed silent for a few moments and then turned to Hotch, "You understand don't you…I had to act in the end?" his sensitive brown eyes pleading with Hotch for his understanding.

"Yes, Gideon, and I, were both wrong. I trusted Gideon to do his job and I didn't want to think about him not doing it. He always immerses himself totally into a case that we couldn't see what it was all doing to the team…I'm sorry that I didn't pull him up on it…" Hotch said, feeling that the words sounded rather inadequate considering what Reid had been through.

"It's not your job to be the senior psych…you did your job, and you were correct in pulling me up over Prentiss and making us work together… I really must find the time to apologise to her when I return to the unit…"

"I'm glad you still want to be with us," Hotch said truthfully.

"Well I'm trying to learn to be an effective profiler…it takes time, it's a challenge even for a genius," he said earnestly and Hotch marvelled again at how humble Reid could be. He was not arrogant, but a man with a gentle temperament and an innate goodness about him.

"So when were you going to tell me about the girlfriend?" Hotch said in mock seriousness as befitting the all-powerful Unit Chief.

Reid grinned, "Well she's only just finished the longwinded form...and you should've heard her rebellious muttering over that…" Hotch raised his eyebrows but was trying hard not to grin. "You know…think of all the trees cut down to make paper…why couldn't the Bureau get themselves geared up to on-line security and on-line form filling?"

"So when I was I going to know?" Hotch pressed, trying not to laugh.

"Well…we've been so busy…." replied Reid with a twinkle in his large brown eyes.

And Max burst out laughing… "It's a wonderful defence Hotch considering what transpired this afternoon…"

Hotch shook his head and smiled, "I'm really glad you have someone…as we are definitely on base for the next week or so…I could process the form ready for your return," he suggested.

"Yeah…Good idea I'll get her to sign it and …"

"Put it into internal mail, marked confidential," interjected Max, and Hotch suddenly realised that it wasn't a good idea for Reid to walk into the department at the moment with all the gossip flying…

"Exactly! No need to come personally with it…you have a pretty intensive course here and you need to interact with the rest of the course members as much as possible," said Hotch enthusiastically.

Reid eyed the pair of them and thought that they were trying to make things easier for him if news of Gideon's board hearing and departure to the Clinic leaked out. It shouldn't but there were some very perceptive minds at work in the FBI and reading between the lines was a favourite past time and essential for the gossip. Reid didn't want to particularly be seen delivering a thick form in an official looking envelope either because his colleagues would start asking questions…

" Hotch, I don't want the rest of the team to know about Jo at the moment ...is that all right?"

"Any particular reason?" Hotch probed, wondering if it was more than just personal privacy.

"It's my private life and I just want to keep things low key…Jo…well you'll find out soon enough…Jo was a victim of crime herself but she's come through the experience well and she does have a fairly well known father…at least in Virginia…"

"Who is it?" Hotch asked intrigued and hoped that there was nothing in the woman's background to cast a shadow on their relationship.

"Joanna is the only daughter of Judge Alan Petersen," Spencer replied watching Hotch's reaction carefully.

Hotch knew of the family, Margaret Petersen was known for her charity work for the Memorial Hospital and the Judge was an independent voice in the Virginian Supreme Court.

"I'm sure that there'll be no problem," Hotch said evenly, wondering how certain members of his department would cope with this piece of news when it finally filtered through.

As Hotch drove home he felt that it had been an extraordinary day and one that had revealed some necessary home truths. The work was too stressful at times but this past year the stresses had just piled up and they were all at breaking point. Max had surprised him and he sensed a trust between Max and Reid that no longer existed between the protégé and his mentor. But perhaps that was just the natural consequence of Reid's maturity and the fall out from his time at the Clinic. It had certainly given Hotch a chance to see a different side to the powerful Head of the Mental Health Services. He sensed a lot more understanding for the profiler's work than perhaps Gideon would have been prepared to give Max credit for.

Hotch turned off the highway and took the leafy suburban roads as part of his winding down routine from the job. He was anxious about Hayley's health and he was glad that they had this guaranteed time at Quantico, even if he still had to attend the hearings for his other two agents. They were scheduled for tomorrow afternoon; Hotch welcomed the swift arrangement and it meant that the agents wouldn't be left brooding over their actions. They would be called to provide a written statement to explain their behaviour in the morning but then at 3 p.m. Prentiss would be called before the board and an hour later, Morgan. Hotch would be required to attend but not necessarily called to speak, and Max seemed prepared to speak in their favour. But Hotch knew that Morgan was the problem agent, and he had no idea who would be sitting on the disciplinary board in judgement.

He turned into his driveway and saw the smiling face of his son pressed against the window. Hotch switched off all thoughts of Quantico as he cut the engine and prepared himself to give his family 100 per cent of his time.

End of Chapter 21.


	22. Chapter 22

The In-Between Times: Chapter 22 

**By Helena Fallon**

Emily Prentiss sat in the ante-room waiting to be called. The digital clock on the wall opposite told her that it was 14:55 and that meant 5 more minutes of waiting. She had turned up at this main building at 9:30 that morning and was taken to a room where she was informed about the procedure that she could expect this afternoon. Emily was then given access to a computer to produce her written statement. Two hours later she left and rang George to tell him how things had gone.

George had been very supportive since she had told him about the events leading up to this hearing and had said that he would take her to lunch after she had produced her statement. He had been true to his word and Emily found that the more she saw George the more she liked him as a friend. George worked for the IRS, he was heading a team that dealt with Charities and was something of an expert in his field. She had never given it any serious thought before thinking that there wouldn't be much fraud connected with charities but, if you pressed the right button, George would soon open your eyes to the scams and money laundering attempts that were fronted by charities. George was a good listener and his clear thinking and insightful questions had made her feel a little better.

Emily was also was under strict orders to ring him as soon as she was out of the hearing. She had laughed at his stern orders, given with twinkling hazel eyes, and knew that he was genuinely interested in her fate. Emily had been introduced to him by old Harvard friends and was immediately attracted to his intelligence and compassion. George had been a widower for five years; his oldest children were away at university, the youngest was a week-day boarder at a private school which enabled him to cope with his work and gave his daughter a social network in a supportive environment. He had told Emily that seeing their mother slowly die over three years had made his children grow up very quickly, but he was immensely proud of them and knew that Laura would have been too. George explained that fortunately they all had the time to say things that often people avoided even thinking about. Although, as a family, they had all naturally experienced a period of grief, the children were determined to experience their own lives with the same honesty and warmth that Laura had always tried to show in her own. Emily felt comfortable with this older man whose friendship was important to her, along with the shared social circle, in her off duty time from the BAU.

The inner door opened and Agent Mazell appeared. Prentiss judged him to be in his mid thirties, athletically built and nearly 6 foot, this agent was dressed in an expensive dark blue suit, a plain white shirt with a deep blue conservative tie, while his neat pale blond hair was cut as befitting a male FBI employee. He met her eyes with a closed look.

"Agent Prentiss the disciplinary board is ready for you now," he announced in a neutral tone and Prentiss elegantly rose, her professional poise firmly in place. Emily was excellent at compartmentalising her life; it was something she had been trained in since childhood. Emily had only had the best: the best Nanny, the best Kindergarten, the best private schooling. Emily Prentiss would not allow herself to be intimidated by this board, but she would state her case clearly and accept whatever punishment it felt suited her actions.

Emily entered a large room which was dominated by the long oak table in front of her, beneath the FBI symbol and the Stars and Stripes to the side, there were five people sitting solemnly at the table watching her entrance. To the right side was a row of six chairs of which only two were occupied; one by Aaron Hotchner and next to him was a man she didn't recognise but he wore spectacles and his hair, although thick, was iron grey. But the agent decided that it was best to concentrate on those that would be judging her that afternoon.

She came to a halt about four feet before the table and awaited her instructions.

Prentiss recognised the man seated in the middle of the table who would be in charge of the proceedings, he was Charles Reardon, the Deputy Director, but the others were unknown to her.

"Agent Prentiss you understand why you are brought before this board this afternoon," Reardon asked firmly.

"Yes sir,"

"Please be seated, Agent Prentiss,"

Emily sat at the smaller oak table, which was slightly to the right and nearer to the chairs at the side. She was grateful for this concession because she had been warned that in very serious matters, agents could be left standing during the introductions and sometimes beyond. However, she knew that Mazell, who had briefed her that morning, had been confident that it was a good sign that she had not been advised to have her union rep with her. Agent Mazell had said that she was probably going to get a rap over the knuckles but she'd survive.

"Agent Prentiss, I am Charles Reardon and I will be presiding over this disciplinary board this afternoon. My colleagues are Rosa Cordoba, Erroll Hart, Joseph Whicker and Lance Caulder," began the Deputy Director, each of the board members nodded in response to their names. Prentiss judged that they were all probably in their fifties and well practised in hiding their judgement. Reardon continued in his managerial monotones…

"Your Supervisory Agent suspended you for your part in the totally inappropriate stake out of a colleague's home, namely that of Agent Spencer Reid. In your favour, once you were asked about your part, you were open. Furthermore, you did urge caution when your colleague set out to ask another to access the medical records of Agent Reid. I understand that you've since followed Agent Hotchner's orders to have no contact with Agent Reid…is that correct?"

"Yes Sir," Emily said crisply.

"Agent Prentiss, all FBI personnel are entitled to a private life as long as they do not do anything illegal or anything that might bring this Bureau into disrepute. It could be argued that your behaviour was an unwarranted intrusion of privacy and also an act that was unworthy of a serving agent. We're here this afternoon to give you a chance to explain your behaviour further. We've all read your statement and although it dealt with the facts of Friday evening, it hinted at reasons that were not made clear and it's those that we would like you to explain. We've a number of questions to ask you, Rosa would you like to begin?"

The white haired Latino woman gave a thin smile but Prentiss saw shrewd eyes and was immediately on her guard.

"Agent Prentiss, have you ever been invited to Agent's Reid's home?"

"No," Emily evenly replied.

"Did you know where he lived?"

"No," answered Emily clearly.

"Then which of your colleagues knew the address?"

"Agent Morgan and Ms. Garcia."

"And whose idea was it to stake out Agent Reid's apartment?"

"It wasn't originally intended as a stake out…We wanted to speak to him and because he didn't seem to be there, we decided to wait for him."

"Whose idea was it?" Rosa pressed.

"Agent Morgan," replied Prentiss reluctantly and sensed that Morgan was going to have his over confidence pulled into line this afternoon.

"Did you know that Agent Morgan was going to go back to Agent Reid's apartment after he'd taken you home?"

"No, I thought he was going to call it a day, it was after 11 o'clock and I thought Reid had probably gone somewhere else."

"Tell me. What were you planning to say to Reid…had he been at home?"

"We thought he might be taking drugs and we wanted to confront him and try to get him to let us help?"

"How were you going to do that?"

"Well, it was a little vague, but I guess we would have taken him to Gideon or Hotch…I mean Agent Hotchner,"

"It's all right, Agent Prentiss, we're aware that you all refer to The Unit Chief as Hotch and you may do so here," Rosa said gently and Prentiss sensed that perhaps this formidable woman was more understanding of her actions than at first appeared.

"But why did you think he was using drugs?" Rosa continued trying to give this tightly controlled agent a chance to explain her actions more fully.

"He looked so ill and his mannerisms…there were times we thought that he was showing signs of using…"

"Please be more specific?" Rosa probed.

"Since he'd returned from sick leave, he seemed so changed…He was very pale and underweight…he seemed withdrawn at times. I noticed how he even scratched his face as if it irritated him but there didn't seem to be any obvious irritation like a rash. Sometimes he seemed more nervous than he used to be and he was very short tempered with me and he'd not been like that before…Also, he had seemed to have lost his sensitivity towards people on the Houston case…"

Hotchner listened and thought back to the Houston case. Poor Reid hadn't had time to shave and he thought that the man was one of those who was irritated by early stumble growth, but the scratching could have been misinterpreted as a nervous tic. Hotch now regretted not telling the team that Reid was going to be late, they had obviously seen certain signs and made the wrong connections because of not being briefed properly over Reid's return.

"What was Agent Reid like when you first arrived in the BAU?" Erroll asked, the dapper Negro's voice was unexpectedly lower than Prentiss had anticipated.

"He was the quiet one, he seemed terribly young and he had this fantastic brain at times… it's like having a human computer with you, with all the information that he can retrieve from his memory. But there was a sweetness about him…a kind of old fashioned courtesy and he was very patient with people and sensitive. It was nice just to sit near him on the plane because sometimes you just liked to soak up the quietness and you knew that he wasn't going to start talking when you didn't feel like it …He seemed very aware of others' feelings in the group."

"So you liked him?"

"As a colleague yes, but at first I found his ability to recall trivia odd and sometimes irritating but then I began to see how he fitted in with the team. I realised that he was a very interesting person and he was the first real genius I'd met… But he was still wary of me I think, he wasn't unfriendly just still weighing me up."

"So Reid the genius took some adjusting too?" asked Erroll.

"Yes, I've met plenty of so called very intelligent people and too many of those were very arrogant about their intelligence. But Reid's the first real genius I've met personally and he wasn't what I was expecting…I thought he was going to be like the so-called gifted minds I'd met at Harvard but he isn't. He has this amazing ability to draw together numerous threads and make connections, which would take us lesser mortals days to do. It really is like having a human computer with us and I mean that in the best sense. I began to realise that there was more to Reid that just his fantastic memory because there was also his sensitivity…no computer can relate to people like Reid can."

"But you saw a big change in him when he returned?" Erroll continued to concentrate her thoughts in this specific area.

"Yes…well he'd been through so much…We'd seen a lot of what Hankel did to him because of the computer link he used to send the film of his deeds. It was awful…he tried to put some of it on the internet…"

"Yes, we know…" said Erroll solemnly, "But why didn't you take your fears about these changes to Hotch or Gideon?"

" I was the newest member of the team and felt perhaps that I was misreading the senior members, but to me they didn't seem to be doing anything…I mean it was really Gideon's job to monitor him but he seemed to be avoiding him. Before the kidnapping, Gideon would play chess with Reid and they would chat. But when he returned, Gideon didn't say anything really and seemed to be avoiding working with him. I tried, but…" Prentiss said, but then thought that she was not getting across her feelings very well.

"What did you do?" Rosa asked, sensing there was more to this woman's account.

"Look, the first case with us after he returned, he was so withdrawn and Hotch was not letting him out in the field, but kept him at the precinct. I noticed that Gideon was observing him, you know like you would a suspect, but he didn't make any attempt to talk to him. In fact, even when we saw him the first time, after our Michigan case, Gideon seemed very cold towards Reid…you know, a terse 'welcome back' but with no warmth about the greeting. He didn't even ask him 'how he was'. I thought it odd because I was told that Reid was Gideon's protégé and he'd persuaded the Bureau to accept him at 21.

Then there was the Houston case. Reid came in late looking dishevelled for the briefing and I noticed that Gideon didn't look too pleased about that. It started badly for Reid and myself…on the plane going there, I offered to work with him over the geographical profiling but he said that he didn't want my help and Hotch intervened and ordered us to work together. Not that he did…I mean we were in the same room at the precinct, but Reid was engrossed in what he was doing and I was definitely not part of it. Hotch was in the room, so he saw what was happening, but didn't say anything to Reid. I guess he felt it more important for Reid to concentrate on what he was doing…but Reid was very irritable. I'd never seen him like that before…He was irritated by the noise of the workmen outside, we all were but we weren't being snappy; it was all out of character.

Then Gideon sent Reid and I to go to the nearest Homeless Shelter because we thought the unsub was a vagrant who'd lost his usual 'home' territory because of the reconstruction work going on in the area. We spoke to the shelter administrator but Reid was so…insensitive towards her…I mean he left the poor woman scared to be working in the shelter…"

"Why do you say that?" asked the balding and round-faced Lance Caulder.

"We'd gone to see if any one had been acting more aggressively than the usual squabbles or drawing their attention by odd behaviour. I just thought that Reid could have been gentler with the woman, he asked the right questions but in the wrong way and she was left very apprehensive. He then just abruptly left after leaving his contact card. The administrator turned to me for reassurance because she had the impression that a murderer could be in their shelter or about to enter it…I tried my best to say that we had no firm evidence to that fact. I went to join him outside and tackled him about the way he'd questioned her. He countered my complaints with reasonable replies, but it wasn't the sensitive Reid I'd been expecting. I asked him out of exasperation… what was wrong with him because I'd never seen him behave like that before… Boy, was I blown away with the flash of a different Reid…I was firmly told that 'I didn't know what I was talking about because I didn't know him!' Which was all true, but based on his previous behaviour with me and the rest of the team, this was a Reid I'd never seen before…It was a difficult silent drive back to the precinct…"

On the sidelines, Hotch sat weighing up all Prentiss had said. He now knew why Reid felt he owed this woman an apology, but Hotch also knew that the younger agent had been battling with a hangover headache and only 4 hours sleep. Poor woman must have been quite concerned about their genius but she'd not said anything, perhaps because she didn't want to get him into trouble. However, Hotch was pleased that she had perceived a great deal although she had probably felt at a disadvantage about how to address her worries because she was new to the tightly knit team.

"Then Reid pointed us in the right direction…he realised the unsub was suffering from post traumatic stress and we were all frantically involved in trying to find Roy Woodridge, but we failed. His mood seemed a lot better…less snappy by then and more like his old sensitive self. The look he gave us when he came off the phone with Morgan…we knew Woodridge was dead without him saying a word. He retreated into himself on the plane and slept through the flight home. I kept looking over to him; he just looked like an exhausted vulnerable kid in need of some TLC. Hotch went and woke him for the landing and then he was suddenly gone, just like the rest of us…we had all been upset by the case.

Then Gideon was away at a conference and Reid was sent to Washington State to interview Clark Norton and the team came together again for the New Orleans murders. Reid seemed different again, more composed in himself and neat and tidy. Gideon was still keeping his distance, you know, like watching from afar. On the plane I put my foot in it…I made a comment when I shouldn't have…it was a private conversation…"

"Did he snap at you again?" Rosa asked gently because she felt that this agent was a sensitive and caring woman underneath her glacial exterior.

"No…he wasn't sarcastic or even angry…he just quietly told me that it wasn't 'our place to judge...' With hindsight I should have kept my mouth shut, but I felt a gulf widen between us again. I wasn't pleased to find that we were sent to the mortuary together."

"Did he seem rude or sarcastic to you?" Erroll asked.

"No, on the contrary, he was just very professional. However, I felt I was walking on eggs but perhaps that was more because I was regretting my comment on the plane, especially as two other agents had come up and told me that it was uncalled for."

Hotch noted the admission, Prentiss was wisely being honest with this board and by admitting her mistakes it was making her role in this matter seem more credible.

"But you didn't apologise for your behaviour?" Whicker asked.

"We were concentrating on the case…I didn't feel there was the right opening," Prentiss confessed and still felt a twinge of guilt again about the incident on the plane.

"So you felt that your working relationship with Agent Reid had become strained?" Rosa asked.

"Well…it continued to go down hill…Gideon ordered Morgan and I to go to Texas to interview the former fiancée of another possible victim. Reid was supposed to go with us but I rang him 4 times and he never answered his cell. We didn't believe him when he told us the next day that he'd no reception. It just wasn't like the reliable Reid before his sick leave When we paired off later, I was working with Gideon and he was focused on the case, but he snapped at me over Reid…"

"Please explain, Agent Prentiss we're trying to understand fully the background to your actions," the Latino explained and Prentiss thought that perhaps she had again misjudged the woman and she was really trying to help her.

"Gideon asked me if I'd shown the latest note from the unsub to Reid because he was the Jack the Ripper expert. I hesitated because I suddenly thought I ought to mention Reid's behaviour since his return. But Gideon suddenly exploded and sharply said, something like, 'don't you think I know something's going on with him!' He then turned away before I could reply and stormed off into the crowd leaving me to catch up. I just didn't know what was going on…Before when I'd colleagues off sick for over a month, then the senior agents had always kept us informed about their progress and we even visited. But we were told that Reid had requested no contact and then when he does return, he's so different and the senior agents seem not to be helping him re-adjust. I mean I would've expected Gideon to be working with him and trying to get him to talk to us as a group…you know to integrate him again. The poor guy had been away for 5 months so it must've felt strange!" Emily said with passion and then felt that perhaps she had been too emotional.

Hotch observed her from the sidelines and felt that this woman had been in a difficult position with Gideon. When he was in one of his moods, or in this case feeling backed into a corner by his conscience, then Gideon could be unreachable.

"But the case had a successful outcome. Did you have a chance to speak to Reid at the end of the case or on the plane home?" asked Caulder.

"No, he went to see his friend again the night before we left and on the plane he seemed to be just sleeping or dozing. Reid had his eyes closed and he was well away from Morgan and myself so I assumed he didn't want to be interrupted and he didn't even go and make himself coffee. Then Reid disappeared after the plane landed; he didn't come back to the BAU. Morgan noticed and asked loudly if anyone had seen him and Hotch just came out of his office and said it was all right, he knew where Reid was…"

"And that was when Morgan organised the meeting for that evening over a take away to discuss the missing Reid?" Caulder asked.

"Yes…we just cared about him. We did try to ring him but he wasn't answering his cell again…Well I didn't try, we asked J.J., I mean Agent Jareau, to try first and then Morgan and Garcia both tried. Agent Jareau fought Reid's corner and didn't want any part in our going to his home to confront him and left. The three of us went to see him only he wasn't at home and didn't return," said Prentiss, but Hotch noted that her voice didn't sound confident about the actions the colleagues had taken.

"You had no further contact with Agent Morgan over the weekend or with Ms. Garcia?" Whicker asked her.

"No, I had my own arrangements and was making the most of being free over a weekend. I didn't know that Morgan had been staking out Reid's apartment on and off until he told me on Monday morning and he had his idea to involve Garcia's talents. I cautioned him about that, but he said that she could always say no and I went back to my work." Prentiss summed up her part in the proceedings.

"But where did you think Reid was?" asked Whicker, who seemed amazed by the whole story.

"Well…we thought the Bureau had arranged to put Reid through a detox programme and were keeping it quiet."

"I see, but what really puzzles me is why you just didn't go and ask Hotch where Reid was…it was no secret, or even mention your worries about drug taking?" Whicker continued.

"With hindsight I do have a clearer head now about these matters, especially because Garcia was so foolish to try and access his medical records…I mean the Mental Health department wouldn't allow someone who was an addict doing psych evaluations," Prentiss replied limply.

"Exactly, Agent Prentiss, I'm glad that you've finally thought beyond the superficial," chided Erroll, "However, the fact remains that you did join in this stake out of another agent's home. How would you like to come home one evening to find 3 colleagues waiting for you, especially if you were not alone?"

"I'd be very annoyed," she admitted and her heart skipped a little faster, as the tone this man had used indicated that perhaps Reid had done just that.

"Yes, Agent Prentiss, Agent Reid was not alone that evening and did notice Agent Morgan's car and the occupants. He decided to drive straight past because he was annoyed…actually I think furious would be a better term and even now is not at his apartment. In effect, you drove a man from returning to his home…We all have a right to a private life and to feel that our home is a sanctuary from the work we do," Erroll said solemnly.

"I'm very sorry that happened but our actions were originally out of concern for our colleague," Prentiss countered.

"But none of you followed the correct procedure, which is clearly stated in the guidelines for agents, and your supervising agent would've told you that Agent Reid is definitely not taking drugs and I hope that you would have the intelligence to work out why!" Reardon scalded, "You've over ten years experience in the Bureau Agent Prentiss, so you can hardly plead innocence over procedure. I see from your personal file that previous supervising agents have considered you at times reckless in your judgements and, as far as I'm concerned, this borders on to that recklessness. If any of my colleagues had behaved like that to me, I would've rung my supervisor immediately and made a formal complaint. You're fortunate that Agent Reid has not done that and this behaviour has only come to light because of the attempt to access medical records. However, you were also aware that Agent Gideon was failing to supervise the return of Agent Reid in a manner that you would've expected. That matter was dealt with yesterday, and has been resolved for the time being, but it can be used as a mitigating factor in your case, especially as you're still adjusting to the team. Furthermore, you didn't agree with Agent Morgan's final idea to hack medical records," Reardon said and then turned to his fellow board members, "Any more questions?… Do we still remain in agreement over the censure to be imposed?"

The four board members nodded their agreement and Prentiss breathed deeply awaiting their decision.

"Agent Prentiss it is the decision of this disciplinary board to up hold the initial decision by Agent Hotchner to suspend you from duty. This suspension will continue for the rest of the week, without pay. Your work is required in the BAU department otherwise I would have preferred a two week suspension, but they are short staffed and you will be desk bound until the team returns to normal ready status. I expect you not to contact Agent Reid and then perhaps all parties will have calmed down a little by the time Reid returns. I will, however, make a note of censure in your file about your disregard for clear procedure. Let me state clearly, Agent Hotchner was in his office all day on Friday and at any time you could have approached him to discuss this matter. Agent Hotchner, will you please escort your agent out," Reardon curtly dismissed Prentiss.

Emily rose and turned to her right to find that Hotch was waiting.

"This way, Prentiss," he said crisply and led her out through a side door, near the chairs where he had been sitting. Emily realised that this was intentional, as the board obviously didn't want her to see Morgan if he was waiting in the ante-room. They walked in prickly silence through corridors that Emily had never travelled down before but suddenly they came to the entrance foyer once more. Hotch turned to her,

"You were very lucky that Gideon had made his own mistakes or you would have been treated far more harshly. Next time share your worries with me, I'll see you next week," Hotch said and turned to go.

"Sir…" Prentiss needed to ask, "Reid is all right, isn't he?"

"Prentiss, Reid is on an advanced group dynamics course and he's not taking drugs…think about it and join the dots, I do try and keep my agents' health tests private. Good afternoon, Prentiss," said Hotch, somewhat exasperated by his team at times. He still couldn't believe how they had not thought out the situation before jumping to conclusions. As he walked back to the room, he wondered just what Morgan would have to say for himself.

Emily watched her boss walk briskly away obviously needing to get back for the hearing of her colleague. She walked back to her car with Hotchner's words repeating in her mind…so Reid had been having regular drug tests but, of course, the Bureau would have insisted upon it after the detox because of the dilaudid. Emily felt very foolish but also she didn't totally regret caring about the youngest agent in the team. She found her car and once in the driving seat, reached for her cell to tell George the good news.

Morgan sat in the ante-room, he had been advised to be there 10 minutes before the proceedings were expected to begin. Agent Mazell came in to join him.

"You OK?" the smartly dressed Mazell asked, his pale grey eyes searching Morgan's face. He had briefed both Prentiss and this agent that morning and felt that they had both been pretty foolish considering their length of service. If they had been newbies he thought Hotchner might have been more lenient, but this man particularly had been out of order by persuading the computer tech to try and access an agent's medical records.

Morgan looked up; he'd had a bad night as he began to think more deeply about the consequences of his actions. He was good at his job but there were plenty of other good agents wanting to join the BAU so he was expendable.

"Yeah, I acted pretty rashly and although my colleague didn't loose her job, she's been in effect demoted …she's been dropped 3 salary grades."

Mazell winced, "Painful but she knew the rules…she's fortunate that she still has a job, I understand Hotchner spoke up for her."

"Do you think Prentiss will be all right?" asked Morgan, who felt that she had only backed him out of genuine concern for Reid.

"There was a lot going in her favour…I think it would be a rap over the knuckles but you should be prepared for more censure…it was pretty stupid." Mazell replied because he felt that these particular agents needed a good dose of reality and he wouldn't have liked to be Reid with colleagues like these. He'd not personally had anything to do with the young genius but a couple of his colleagues, at the Washington office, had their annual psych evaluations with him and found him very understanding, even if they were initially surprised at his youth.

This was an internal matter and Mazell agreed, with the legal department, that union reps were not needed but an agent could appeal if they thought any sanction was unreasonable. He knew of Agent Morgan; he was known for his reputation with the ladies, and Mazell judged this man to have too big an ego for his own good and it had finally taken a battering. However, the Bureau also didn't like to waste the training and experience of its agents and Morgan would not be the first to be reminded that there was a certain code of behaviour.

Derek Morgan was bent forward in the chair and looked to be focusing on his very clean and shiny black shoes. He had got out his expensive dark grey suit, white shirt and dove grey tie to look his sober best before this board, but he knew that he had crossed a line of acceptable behaviour this time. Morgan had never seen Hotchner so angry, he was normally a quietly spoken man who had an aura of command about him, a natural leader, and when Hotch had exploded at his actions it had totally dragged Morgan back to reality. Morgan wasn't even sure if Hotchner would speak on his behalf like he had done with Garcia. There had been those times when Hotchner had spoken quietly to him, behind closed doors, about his behaviour towards Reid or for being too openly flirtatious with the new clerical assistants. Morgan was feeling very vulnerable at that moment because he loved his job and the prestige that went with it, but he had stupidly jeopardised everything by not thinking through his actions.

Mazell's pager sounded and he got up, "I have to go and speak with the board, when I come out they'll probably be ready for you," he warned before striding to the door.

Morgan felt his heart quicken and began the usual deep breathing to calm his nerves. He looked up at the clock …still a couple of minutes before 4 o'clock; so far it had been a hellish long day awaiting this appointment. Mazell had told him in the morning that when he entered the room he was to walk and stand before the table, alongside the smaller table and chair where he might be granted leave to sit down. Morgan didn't know who would be sitting in judgement of him but he hoped they would understand why he had tried to contact Reid. He heard the door open and looked up expectantly.

"Agent Morgan, the board is ready for you now," Mazell stated formally and Morgan pulled himself together to justify his actions.

As Morgan entered the room he noted Hotch sitting alone to the right and before him were 5 men seated at the table, he recognised Reardon, Pentall and Whicker. He came smartly to a halt waiting for Reardon to begin.

"I am Charles Reardon and together with my colleagues, Erroll Hart, Max Pentall, Lance Caulder and Joseph Whicker, we will be presiding over this disciplinary hearing. Your supervisory agent suspended you, pending this hearing, because of your actions of staking out Agent Spencer Reid's home and asking a BAU computer expert to access Agent Reid's medical records. We all here wish you to understand that we take these matters very seriously and have read your statement and now wish to clarify certain details, so that we can understand more fully why you behaved in such an unprofessional manner towards a fellow agent. Is that clear, Agent Morgan?" Reardon coldly stated and Hotch immediately knew that they were going to give Morgan a far rougher ride than Prentiss…

"Yes, Sir," Morgan said crisply, his eyes focused on the FBI symbol dominating the wall behind the table. It was a reminder to Morgan of all that he had worked for and equally all that he had jeopardised by his actions.

"You may be seated, Agent," Reardon icily said and Morgan was grateful that he would have the support of a chair and table, he'd heard tales of disciplinary boards making agents stand throughout their hearings but perhaps these were rumours after all. He was worried that Max Pentall sat on the board, as he knew that Reid was now associated with the Mental Health Services department, and Max's presence was to protect his departments interests. Morgan felt sick as it was very apparent that he was in a lot of trouble and was beginning to understand why Garcia had been so upset and she had not faced a disciplinary board, but an immediate interrogation.

"Max would you like to begin?" Reardon invited and Morgan thought his career was about to dissolve into thin air as he sat spellbound in the chair and the all-powerful Max Pentall hadn't even spoken yet. Morgan knew Max had a reputation and the stories of his conflict with Gideon were well known in the Bureau. He glanced across at Hotch but his Unit Chief had an unreadable cold expression, which told Morgan that he was still very angry with him.

"Agent Morgan, would you've liked to come home, after an evening out with a friend, to find that your home was being staked out by colleagues?" Max asked in a very soft voice but it seemed to reverberate off the walls in the room.

Morgan swallowed and thought swiftly how to reply, "I think it would depend why they were there?" he said in a quiet voice.

"So you wouldn't mind finding agents at your home uninvited?"

"I said it would depend why they were there?"

"Even if they were uninvited and you were not alone?" Max pressed his point.

Morgan's brain processed the words… 'Oh shit,' thought Morgan, 'Reid had seen us,'

But before Morgan could reply, Max spoke again, " Yes, Agent Morgan, Dr. Reid was not alone and he did see you all at his apartment block and drove past. He has not been back to his apartment since."

"That's a bit over the top isn't it?" countered Morgan, his voice rising in intensity, "I mean what's he got to hide, we're his friends…"

"Are you? Have you ever been invited by Reid to his apartment?" Max mildly asked.

"No," conceded Morgan, "But friends shouldn't have to be always invited…you know, they should be able to just drop by."

"Really, what made you think that you'd find your friend at home?" asked Max and Morgan felt he was falling into a very deep hole which was going to be difficult to get out of.

He didn't know how to reply. The silence began to stretch out as his brain refused to think of an acceptable answer.

"You don't know Reid that well do you?" Max pressed.

"Yes we do, he's this nerdy genius who's awkward in social situations…"

"Really, how do you think he spends his off duty time?"

Morgan shrugged, "Reading, playing chess, concerts…I'm not sure," he admitted, feeling that he had lost an awful lot of ground very quickly.

"Quite, Morgan, you see you don't know Reid outside the Bureau, but I can assure you that he does have a social life and a circle of friends who have nothing to do with the FBI, but they cover his wide interests. What you did was to invade an agent's private life, and in effect drove him from his home, what right do you have to do that?"

"I didn't drive him from his home, he chose not to come home if, as you say, he saw us. Why should he be afraid to see his colleagues?" Morgan fought back, his tone hardening for the battle he perceived.

Hotch was alert to the tone of voice Morgan was using. He could tell that Morgan was getting further caught by Max's persistence to prove that Morgan was not as close a friend as the agent thought himself to be. Hotch was still furious over the actions of certain members of the team and if Morgan was to be removed from the BAU then he'd accept the loss of a good agent in the field, but there were plenty more wanting his place. The BAU was an elite squad and Morgan enjoyed the status of being a member, but his ego had been his downfall in this matter, and even if he stayed in the BAU his image in the FBI will have taken a severe hammering.

"Agent Morgan, we are all entitled to our private lives, as it ever occurred to you that Agent Reid wanted to keep his private life from his BAU colleagues?"

"Why? We're his friends, we care about him…" retorted Morgan, without thinking through his reply.

"Morgan, many of us at the Bureau find it better, in order to cope with the stresses of our work here, to separate the work and our private lives. So we have trusted colleagues who we might never see outside work and our off duty world is kept separate from the job." Max said patiently.

Morgan sat quietly thinking how very little he knew about Reid's life and what had he stepped into, why if he'd been with someone was it important to keep that secret?

"I still think it's over the top that even if he was with someone, why didn't he introduce us…aren't we good enough?" the besieged agent belligerently asked.

"What makes you think you're so important in Reid's life that he would want to introduce you to his friends?" Max snapped back and Morgan was rendered speechless with the reply….

Max waited a few minutes, as the agent seemed to have lost his power of speech. Hotch watched and wondered where Max had learnt to interrogate, this was not normal psych speak. Hotchner knew nothing of Max's background but he sensed that he was a dangerous man to cross.

"I will say again, I know that Agent Reid was not alone on Friday evening and the last people he wanted to see, as he was trying to wind down after a stressful case, were colleagues waiting outside his apartment. The person who he was with was not amused either…They have very little shared time without work colleagues invading their precious time together. But I suspect that you don't fully understand that because you don't seem to have relationships that last, do you?" Max drove home his point and Hotch thought he would have made a good lawyer.

Morgan sat feeling totally deflated by this man; Max Pentall had belittled him very effectively in only a few minutes. He'd no idea that Reid was in a relationship…

"Look, we didn't know about any relationship. We thought he'd be on his own, we were just worried about him," Morgan said simply, his tone suddenly had lost its fight and was far more humble as it hit Morgan that Reid was upset about what they had done.

"He was so annoyed, Agent, that his friend went to his apartment, on the Saturday, and collected some things so he didn't have to return. Agent Reid has not been informed yet about the attempt to access his medical records…."

Morgan was stunned, someone had been and collected Reid's things; he tried to think back to the weekend when he had been in the car park, but his mind was not co-operating due to the stress of the situation he was in. But for Reid to have done that, it meant he really didn't want to see him and what was his reaction going to be over the attempted hacking…?

"Agent Morgan…" Max summoned his attention back to him, "You do now realise why we view the staking out of a colleague's home unacceptable. It wasn't just the Friday evening was it? You stayed all night because your car was seen the next morning and one of the neighbours noticed, and took down you number, and reported your car being there again on Sunday. The police passed the complaint on to the Bureau because the neighbour knew Reid worked for the FBI and was safety conscious because of his work. Then you were specifically told to stay away from Reid and his home by Agent Hotchner and you were seen there last night…I would like an explanation, Agent Morgan?" Max continued to press the beleaguered agent.

Hotch had been flabbergasted and still found it hard to believe that Morgan could be so stupid as to disobey that order. Max had told him this afternoon, as the hearings were about to start. Morgan had been staking out an agent who was also considered a member of the Mental Health Team and the Bureau would uphold its policy to protect those people from uninvited intrusion.

"I wanted to apologise," Morgan said quietly, he had not thought that Reid's apartment would be watched, "How did you know?" he asked out of curiosity.

"Oh, we psych's are afforded an extra layer of security because some of the people we deal with can be unbalanced. Consequently, we like to keep our addresses secret along with our personal phone numbers…just in case the job suddenly enters our home life. Once Garcia's attempt to access Dr. Reid's medical file was flagged up then security were automatically keeping an eye on his apartment. They photographed you and logged the time you spent there."

Morgan knew he was in very deep trouble, he had deliberately ignored an order after he was already suspended for staking out Reid's apartment. Hotch would have been livid when he found out and Morgan was reminded of Friday's outburst, he didn't dare look at him. Morgan knew that he could not expect any intervention in his favour from the Unit Chief.

Max met Hotchner's scrutiny with a slight nod, and The Chief of the BAU was now personally aware of why people viewed Max as a powerful person in the Bureau. Max obviously knew where a lot of 'bodies' were buried and yet Hotch was also aware of the compassion Max had shown to Gideon. He would have preferred to have been informed earlier about this latest Morgan episode, but Hotch knew that it would not have altered things for the agent.

Lance Caulder began to speak and Morgan latched on to the new voice.

"Agent Morgan, we heard from Agent Prentiss that you originally went to Agent Reid's apartment out of genuine, if misguided concern, for the agent."

"Yes, Sir," a subdued Morgan replied.

"You seem to have instigated this tale of events, perhaps you would like to explain why you thought Agent Reid was taking drugs?" Caulder said patiently, trying to give the agent another chance to redeem himself.

Morgan collected his thoughts together, his clash with Max had not gone well, but he had to explain himself clearly now or he felt it would be the end of his career.

"Reid is the youngest of the team. I've always tried to look out for him in a way…I suppose I kinda think of him like a little brother…We were all shocked about what happened to him, but he sent word that he didn't want to see us while he was on sick leave. That was hard, but I guess he didn't want us seeing him being pieced together and it was such a shock when we did see him. Garcia rang us to say he was back and she told me that he was too thin and very quiet…but the reality was still upsetting. He'd changed; the young genius kid we knew was gone. Reid's eyes no longer shone with a childlike wonder and he seemed to keep himself apart and wasn't joining in things. He didn't spout forth unasked for trivia any more…we'd lost our Reid. He just seemed in his own world. He'd sit on the plane just staring into space, physically with us, but the Reid we once knew was lost to us," Morgan began to speak from the heart and forgot about this being a disciplinary hearing, if these people wanted to know why he had acted in the way he did then this was it…

Hotch observed Derek Morgan suddenly loose the confident macho image he usually wore and beneath this outer extrovert armour was now revealed a more sensitive and genuinely concerned man.

"When we got back from the Michigan case, we invited him out with us but he declined. Gideon was a bit odd with him. I'd expected him to have Reid in his office, like Hotch had done, but I didn't see Gideon do that and he seemed to just observe Reid but not talk to him. Reid knew that Gideon and Hotch were watching him and assessing his return. On the way home from the Westchester case he'd told me that he'd been finding the crime scene photos difficult, but he kept his voice low not wanting anyone else to know. I told him that it was all right, he wasn't expected to just bounce back working all out like before. I said that what he was feeling was natural, that it was good to feel empathy and he was to use it. But we all noticed during the cases how Gideon and Hotch would exchange glances…you know when they noticed something that was out of character…"

"Can you give an example?" Erroll interjected.

" Jeez the look Gideon gave Reid when he turned up late for the Houston briefing…It was so out of character for Reid to be late and he…I've never seen him look wasted like he did that morning. He was snappy towards Prentiss and she was quite upset and concerned about him…We, I mean J.J. Emily and myself, talked about it that evening but the next day he seemed to be in a better mood. He had mood swings that case. We were all upset over the case… I guess it got to him too. But he wasn't with us when we tried to take Woodridge in, it was Gideon who tried so hard to save that guy and then was upset and very quiet about the outcome. Anyway, Reid seemed to be unreachable again and slept though the flight home and didn't talk to any of us.

But I'd noticed something…In his satchel, I saw two small bottles and it reminded me of when we found him, after he'd shot Hankel… Reid had taken something from Hankel's pocket and I thought it looked like small bottles…I tried to get near his bag to see what it was but I had to wait until the New Orleans case. I went into his room, when he'd gone to see his friend to say goodbye, and I found two small bottles labelled dilaudid in his satchel. They were full but I didn't find a syringe with his things. I was concerned about him lying earlier to Prentiss and me…Reid had never failed to answer his cell when on a case, he should've come with us to Texas. The way he'd been looking, behaving and his exhaustion after cases… I thought he'd turned to the dilaudid. It's such an addictive drug it would have been easy in a moment of weakness to get hooked… I wanted to talk to him about that but I didn't see him when he got back…it was late and I was tired and fell asleep."

Hotch sat horrified. Morgan had got Reid's room key, probably by lying to the desk clerk and showing his badge, and then searched his things. He began to feel that this agent was digging the grave for his career. Hotch also wondered what all this was going to do for the working relationship between Morgan and Reid when the younger agent discovered the full details of his colleague's actions. He tuned back into Morgan's account of himself…

"Reid kept to himself again on the plane home and looked to be sleeping. When we got back to Quantico he'd disappeared, he didn't come back with us to the BAU. I did ask the bullpen if anyone had seen him and Hotch came out of his office to say that it was all right because he knew where Reid was, but he didn't say exactly where. I guess with the lying, mood swings, the paleness, the weight loss and the bottles…I convinced myself he was taking drugs.

I asked the others if they wanted to meet up over a take away to discuss things, so we ended up at Garcia's apartment because that's the closest. J.J. tried to call him and he didn't answer his cell so Garcia and I tried…Prentiss didn't because she was convinced he wouldn't answer her anyway. You see, we did try several times to contact him by phone and when he didn't answer I decided to go and confront him at his home. Prentiss and Garcia agreed to come but J.J. said she wasn't going to be part of it and left."

Hotch once more felt respect for Jareau's common sense and sensitivity towards a fellow agent's privacy, it was a pity that they had not listened to her. He was glad that he had Agent Jareau on the team, she was excellent at her job and adamant that she didn't want to train as a profiler.

"We all went in my car and we just waited in the visitor's bay after he didn't answer his bell. His car was there, I thought perhaps he just wasn't answering the entry phone because its got a live feed, he would've known who was ringing his bell, and he was avoiding us. At around 11o'clock, the ladies were getting tired and Prentiss won the toss to be taken home first. After I'd dropped Garcia off I went back to Reid's place and waited…I finally left at midday on the Saturday. I did go out Saturday night but went back on Sunday, around lunch time and again in the evening, all the time his car didn't look as if it had been moved. I tried again before work and even drove round a couple of the car parks nearest to the Psych block, in case he'd slipped out after I'd left and driven to Quantico and entered by a different gate.

Anyway, I only just got into the BAU on time and told Prentiss about how I'd been trying to contact him over the weekend. Well, because his car wasn't even in the car parks, I'd got it into my head that he was in detox and the psych training was just a cover. You know that Hotch and Gideon had found out about the drugs and it had all been arranged to give him a cover story. It was then that I had the idea about Garcia hacking his medical records and she listened to my argument and said she'd try later that morning. We only did things because we were worried about Reid and we thought he'd turned to drugs because he couldn't cope with the pressure of the work."

"But at no time did any of you talk about mentioning your concerns to Hotch?" Caulder asked.

"No…we were all pretty intently occupied on the cases and we wanted to be sure before we mentioned things to Hotch…I guess I wanted to confront Reid in the hope that he would go to Hotch himself or I'd offer to go with him…"

Hotch sat listening to this, at times rambling account, but he knew that Morgan had genuinely been worried for the younger man. But this was also the first time he'd mentioned searching Reid's hotel room and Hotch was pleased that he'd not found a syringe. Hotchner had been told about the significance of the bottles for his recovery so it was no surprise to him that Reid had put them in his satchel. However, Morgan had disobeyed a direct order and Reardon was a stickler for such things. Reardon maintained that the Bureau could only function properly if it's agents obeyed orders and followed procedure. In certain matters the man had a point, but in the field, Hotch knew that his team often walked a very difficult line over procedure especially where lives were at risk. However, they had not been on a case and none of these agents had approached him when they got back to Quantico.

The room had fallen silent, Reardon looked at his colleagues and Morgan noted the slight mannerisms that indicated they didn't have any more questions.

"Agent Morgan, we as a board have to discuss this case now that we've heard your account. Would you please wait outside…"

Morgan rose and walked out not daring to look at his boss, he knew disobeying Hotchner's orders were going to weigh heavily against him. He went and sat in the ante-room and wondered if he would loose his position in the BAU or even be dismissed outright. He kept going over in his mind how he had been so convinced about what he had seen and that he wanted to help Reid. So far everything had blown up in his face…Garcia getting caught, Reid obviously had someone…and they were all being very coy about who it was and that made Morgan suspicious about what secrets were being covered up there…

Meanwhile, back in the room the six men collectively sighed over the events they had been listening to. For a few minutes there was silence, while they each thought about the issues involved and what had prompted them.

Reardon finally called them to order, "Gentlemen, I must admit that this is a very unusual case but it all really goes back to Gideon not briefing the team properly for Reid's return…it seems to have had a domino effect…"

"Yes," Max agreed, "I still agree that if Gideon had done that some of this wouldn't have happened, but Morgan does have this need to interfere…Have you noticed how he only feels in control of a situation if he knows everything. Why did he need to have his suspicions confirmed by going to Reid's medical records? He could still have gone to Hotch with his concerns but he's very obsessive when he gets an idea...It all goes back to issues with trust and this might happen again unless we try and address that problem."

Erroll nodded, "I think we have an ideal opportunity here…we can force him to co-operate or he looses his position."

"I think he should have his wings clipped, totally disobeying an order…that's sheer arrogance and we can do without that in an agent…When is he next going to disobey an order?" Reardon said, his voice simmering with suppressed anger at the agent's actions.

"There is the issue of them not respecting Reid's privacy?" reminded Whicker, "But then he has not always respected the agent in the past from the comments written on his personal record by Gideon and yourself Hotch," added Whicker browsing through the personal file again.

"Although they all did act out of concern, and finding those bottles of dilaudid what was Reid doing with those?" questioned an obviously worried Caulder.

"Oh, the bottles were the ones taken from Hankel but now it's harmless coloured water in them. It's part of Reid's coping mechanism…If the flash backs or the nightmares begin to seem to take over, he takes the bottles out and they remind him of what he has overcome and how he was not beaten by Hankel," Max assured.

"You're sure?" asked Caulder, surprised at the explanation.

"Absolutely, if you have any doubts we'll go and get the bottles from Reid and have the labs test them. Remember his tests have all been clean," Max confidently replied, "But the fact Morgan noticed and went illegally into his hotel room…again he never mentioned any of this to the senior agents…"

"Nor the others involved in his scheme…that's interesting Max, you know a little thing that he thought he'd keep to himself. It's not in Prentiss's account so only he noticed and yet if Reid really been on drugs then he should have taken those bottles immediately to Hotch…" Whicker said.

"Perhaps he didn't want to admit to Hotch that he'd been going through Reid's things," Erroll added, "This is a man who always wants things to be in his control so he decides what he tells his colleagues, and when. Derek Morgan probably has never realised what he's doing and it could be affecting his friendships because other people want him at a distance due this interfering and at times controlling behaviour."

"Well all this psych stuff may have a place, but the fact remains that at no time did Morgan go to Hotch with his worries… At least Prentiss attempted to say something to Gideon," said Reardon with irritation bubbling up over the psychologists going off at a tangent.

"Yes they had concerns, but they didn't come and say anything to me about their worries…I just can't believe it…I was in my office, the door was open so anyone could have come and spoken to me. I couldn't announce to the bullpen that Reid had gone for a drug test. Let's face it, he was given dilaudid against his will, he'd had to go through detox and over 2 months of counselling at the Clinic…I can't believe that they didn't think it through!" said Hotch, his exasperation with his team boiling over, "Morgan should've known better and Garcia! Well, I hope when she returns that there'll be no more of this sort of nonsense and a lot more respect for people's personal space from all the team members. Morgan may do some good work while on a case but he still has to answer for these actions or there'll be no respect for the rules… Then there's Reid…what's he going to think when he finds out that they tried to access his records?"

"He doesn't know yet?" Whicker asked surprised.

"No, I thought it best to deal with the Gideon situation first because that was difficult for him, Reid had to show us that his mentor wasn't doing part of his job. It seemed best to wait until things had been settled by these hearings to inform him about his colleagues' actions. At least being in the Psych Training block means that he's well away from the main avenues of gossip. But I'll have to tell him after this hearing," Max replied, "It's going to be on the grapevine once we start to process these disciplinary hearings…we've held up the paperwork for Garcia so we could do it all together, but the rumours are out there."

"I don't know…perhaps Reid won't feel comfortable working with Morgan and Garcia again…I know I wouldn't," admitted Caulder.

Hotch sighed, the dynamics of the team had changed a lot over this past year. There had been Elle, then Prentiss, Morgan's past, Reid's ordeal and Gideon's problems…Hotch felt drained just thinking about it and then for Morgan and friends to act as they did…

"We could kick him back to Chicago," Reardon offered.

"Waste of all that training," Caulder countered.

"Give us a chance to pull him into line," said Max and the group turned to look at him.

"What are you proposing to do?" Reardon asked.

"Sort out the Buford issues that weren't addressed, there is no evidence of counselling and some of his behavioural problems stem from that period of his life."

"What do you think Hotch?" Reardon addressed the Unit Chief, as much depended on how he handled the whole of his team with this matter…

Morgan had waited impatiently for 22 minutes and 28 seconds before Mazell suddenly appeared once more. He stopped his pacing immediately he heard the door handle squeak.

"The board is ready for you now Agent Morgan," Mazell said formally, but he was not giving anything away to the agent in question.

Morgan walked smartly back to stand before the table, his heart was beating furiously, and he felt his review of his past misdemeanours with Hotch paled into insignificance when compared with this.

Reardon looked him up and down with disapproval and he saw no hint of understanding in the stances of any of the other men in the room.

"Agent Morgan this disciplinary board has taken time to consider your behaviour towards your colleague and we cannot condone it because none of you followed the procedures available to you. However, Agent Gideon was remiss in some of his monitoring of Agent Reid and that matter was dealt with yesterday, there'll be changes in the future, but it now depends on what part you may still have in the BAU.

We are all of the opinion that deliberately disobeying a direct order cannot be ignored. Furthermore, your disregard of another's privacy is appalling, but Dr. Pentall has argued that some of your behaviour stems from issues going back to your teenage years. It is this board's intention to demote you by 3 salary levels and the loss of two weeks pay for your behaviour. It has been agreed that you will attend daily counselling sessions, with Dr. Erroll Hart, beginning tomorrow at 9 a. m… It is only on the satisfactory report from Dr. Hart, that this board will consider your return to the BAU. Is that understood, Agent?"

Morgan swallowed, he felt his world was slipping away from him and made one last stand, "What if I refuse the counselling sessions?" he challenged and Hotch cast him a warning look and hoped he caught it.

Reardons' eyes hardened, "It's quite simple, Agent Morgan, you'll be removed from the BAU immediately and also from Quantico…I'm sure that we could find you a desk job in the wilds of Arizona."

Morgan was dumbfounded as he tried to take in the consequences of his own audacity. He glanced at Hotch and saw that he was stone faced and radiating a cold anger towards him.

But another voice drew his attention back to the table.

"Agent Morgan, the fact is, if you still want a career with the BAU then you're going to have to come to terms with some long buried issues. Those are issues that you've until now even refused to admit existed," Max calmly said, "The Bureau wants to give you another chance, but you're going to have to play by a new set of rules. You can't expect us to just slap you on your wrist and accept your promise of never doing it again…You either accept this offer from my department or the Deputy Director, in effect, ends your career at Quantico and you'll never come back."

Hotch mentally winced but Morgan had brought this on himself and he needed this reality check badly because his behaviour, along with Garcia's, had been unacceptable and they were both lucky to still have jobs. Hotch knew that if Fellowes had been heading the board then Morgan would have been dismissed over the disobeying an order after being suspended. Hotchner now realised that Morgan's issues of trust were obviously beginning to have an adverse affect on his life and the offer by the Mental Health Team was an attempt to try and salvage a valuable agent's career. He hoped that he would co-operate but for now he had to deal with the immediate aftermath of these events.

"Agent Morgan, do you accept this condition of counselling?" Reardon asked and the agent knew that his life was finally catching up with him.

"Yes, Sir," he quietly said, and he longed to be out of this room and all that it reminded him of.

"Agent Hotchner please escort your agent to the main entrance."

"This way, Morgan," Hotch said tersely and the agent walked behind his boss. Derek Morgan knew that he couldn't run away any longer from the memories that he had tried to bury deep in the darkest corners of his psyche.

Hotch said nothing as they walked. Morgan felt numb and wondered if he ought to resign but, if he did so, there would still be questions asked about why he had left and references would be difficult.

They got to the main foyer but Hotch continued walking through the outer door, once well away from the entrance he stopped and turned to the agent.

"You're a fool, Morgan, to have baited Reardon like that," Hotch said with an icy quality to his very quiet voice. "What possessed you to disobey my order?"

"I wanted to apologise…"

"Morgan, you'd better co-operate with Erroll Hart because if he doesn't think you're balanced enough to be back with the team then his word goes. I'm going to have to answer to Strauss, when she gets back tomorrow, and I'm going to find it hard to explain how 3 of my people didn't act according to clearly laid out procedure. Prentiss was new, and still trying to fit in, so a case can be made for her joining in as part of that 'acceptance strategy' she was using. But you and Garcia…you're both lucky to still have your jobs. Don't be late tomorrow and stay well away from Reid."

Hotch turned and strode briskly back into the building leaving a stunned Morgan standing in the middle of the path. He pulled himself together and found his car. He didn't put on any music, like he normally did when on his own, but just concentrated on the route home.

Hotch made his way to the Psych Training department and was met by the lovely smiles of Pamela and her fellow receptionist, Sharon, who promptly informed him that Max was waiting for him in room 3, D corridor. Hotch went on his way and wondered how things would go for Morgan. The Unit Chief had wrongly assumed that the abuse of his teenage years would have been picked up in his original interviews but then Derek Morgan was an expert at hiding his true self…like they all were. Hotch knew that Strauss would demand to see him when she got back and he could hardly blame her for wanting to know what was going on with the team. He hardly knew himself other than they had been worked too hard that year and with one man down for 5 months. As he turned into D corridor he wondered how often team leaders had a senior psych and an experienced agent under counselling at the same time and that was without the rest of the domino effect of Gideon's actions. He was grateful that for the next two weeks they were desk bound because the routine hours were going to be very much appreciated, even if Hotch was not going to like the rumour mill working overtime over Garcia and Morgan's actions. Hotch thought that Prentiss would survive; she would keep her head down and work hard and hopefully have the sense to keep quiet, like J.J., over what really happened. As Hotch got to the room he could see, through the window in the door, that Reid was already there and talking with Max.

As he knocked and entered, Hotch sensed that Max had told Reid about Garcia's actions because Reid looked serious and his large eyes burned with a silent fury.

"Hello, Hotch," Reid said, "Max has just told me about yesterday and today's hearings…" he shook his head, and absently ran a hand through the long hair. Spencer sighed deeply, "I just can't believe what Garcia did…and as for the others…well I can see how things could've been misinterpreted but even so…"

"Just tell me that if you suspected a fellow team member of using drugs you'd tell me," asked Hotch, holding his gaze because he had to have this trust between them.

"If I had seen all those signs and they didn't fit any other interpretation, then yes. I hope I would have come to you and said something like… so and so is withdrawn at the moment, I'm concerned. But I think I've learnt my own lesson over Elle, although everyone else says that I mustn't blame myself. Personally, I'd rather have a quiet personal word with my supervisory agent, and risk being wrong, for my own conscience. However, I've never crossed the line over an agent's private off duty time. I never went near Elle's home and I wouldn't have entered her room without permission," Reid quietly, but firmly stated.

Hotch nodded, now fully aware that Max had also told him about Morgan going through his bag, "I can't apologise for his behaviour but he should've told me after finding those bottles. It's one of the reasons that they felt he'd no regard for procedure along with disobeying my order to not try and contact you after his suspension. The board came down hard on him for flaunting my orders, I got the feeling that Reardon wanted him taught a lesson."

"Yeah, it was going to happen sometime because Morgan does have an interfering side. I suspect that with previous departments, his colleagues told him to bluntly back off before it got to the annoyance stage. Things just escalated this time, due to a number of factors… I just hope that the counselling helps and he begins to see that respecting a colleague is the basis of trust and friendship. I'll stay well away from the psych department for the moment and hope he and Garcia have learnt lessons which they won't repeat."

"So you still want to come back to us?" Hotch asked amazed at this young man's steady and mature attitude to the events.

"Like I said yesterday, I'm trying to learn to be a profiler…book knowledge is not enough, you need the field experience," the young agent said and then smiled softly changing the mood of the room, "I've got those forms you wanted."

Reid turned to the table and picked up the thick envelope, "I don't think there'll be a problem because she works for Fairfax Estates and their employees have to go through a security check anyway," he said, as he handed the envelope to Hotch.

"Thanks, I'll personally deal with this and I don't see any problems but can I mention it to Strauss, it might take her mind away from the events of the past few days?" asked Hotch, hoping that Reid would catch his meaning.

"Yeah, of course, anything to help out where the lady is concerned," Reid said softly, but with wide eyes and raised eyebrows indicating that he'd not like to be going before that lady…. "Don't worry Hotch, after all that's happened, we're all having a few days of reflection and the team will come together again. I think it'll better, the dynamics will have changed but I'd like to believe that we'll all have more respect for one another."

"I hope so, Reid, because Garcia and Morgan have had their over-confidence clipped and they'll have to face the social censure of the rest of department aswell. Let's say that the general consensus is that they were way out of line," Hotch replied and hoped that Reid's predictions were going to come true. The Unit Chief was pleased that he had a little something to deflect Strauss, afterall, she probably would like to hear this juicy piece of personal information that at least one of his agents had a stable private life.

Morgan sat down on his bed wondering if this was how Garcia had felt yesterday…He didn't want to see or speak to anyone at the moment, he just wanted to stay quiet in his home to try and heal some of the wounds he'd received today. Cluny padded into the bedroom, the dog nuzzled his master's hand, sensing that something was wrong. Morgan responded to the canine's act of comfort…

"Well, old fella…I've really got myself into a mess this time," he said quietly, as he stroked the dog's head. 'Yeah,' he thought, 'This time I can't run away from the demons'.

End of Chapter 22


	23. Chapter 23

The In Between Times: Chapter 23

**By Helena Fallon**

Special reference is made to the episode 'Profiler profiled'.

Spencer was in a field, his senses were all alert as he searched for the unsub…He suddenly reached up with all his strength and soared out of the vortex of the dream that could suck him down into a well known nightmare. Spencer forced his eyes open; he was not going to go down that path again. He could feel his heart's pounding now calming down but he felt momentarily disorientated because the shadows of the room were all wrong. 'Fool!' his mind chided, 'You are not at home…this is Jo's place,' and his hand slid along the mattress and stopped as it touched the other's warm skin. There was a little sigh and the other body rolled towards him. Spencer focused in the half-light on the head with its dark curls and smiled as the woman's arm reached lazily across his torso. He thought that she was still asleep but the trust in that action was central to his emotional world now. He let her body snuggle against his own, enjoying the comfort of the extra warmth and softness of her presence. Spencer didn't know why she wore a night dress, it always seemed to ride up and become bunched around her waist but that had its own attractions. He let his hand skim her thigh and lightly travel up to her hip before letting it explore gently her more rounded soft buttocks.

"Mmmm…" the body uttered sleepily and wriggled slightly under his touch, pressing even closer against his own bony skeleton. Spencer's mind began to meander over recent events.

It was difficult to sleep sometimes in strange hotel beds now he had experienced this companionable warmth, and the joy of coming home after a case held new meaning to Spencer Reid since the Clark Norton interviews. Finding Jo back at his apartment, and that following weekend, had been a pivotal point for them. Morgan and friends, and their misguided interference, were an annoyance on one level and fury on another when he found out about the attempt to access his medical records. But on reflection his medical records were not that interesting. There was the usual note of when he had been vaccinated, a broken collar bone after falling from a tree when he was 6, his hayfever allergy and medication for it, a severe chest infection that required antibiotics. Then there were the odd injuries sustained since working for the Bureau; a sprained ankle, X rays for suspected broken ribs, treatment for his lacerated foot, head trauma and detox following the Hankel case, together with 2 months intensive counselling and the sick leave for the PTSD. Garcia and Morgan would have been disappointed, there was nothing there really and the latter stuff they knew about anyway. However, it was the violation of trust and the pair of them now had to live with the consequences as the rumours spread. Their actions had affected their own credibility of trustworthiness, not his, although he also knew that the basis for their behaviour lay in Gideon's own failings.

Max and Hotch had discussed the situation with him late yesterday afternoon, but he felt the Gideon problem had been the most important event to him because of the relationship that they had once had as pupil and mentor. Garcia was a friend but in Morgan's company she could be silly. Morgan had always thought a little too highly of himself and some infringement of the rules was always going to eventually bring him back to earth. However, Spencer had not thought that he would be the reason for the reality check in their lives. He was amazed that Garcia had kept her position even if she had been demoted, but Hotch pointed out that she had not actually managed to break through the security protecting the records.Garcia's actions would be quickly known throughout the Bureau's numerous corridors and she would have to walk down those and face the looks and hear the whispers behind her back. Garcia had jeopardised her career but there was still a hard price to pay for keeping it and she would be under scrutiny from now on.

Morgan had his own set of problems which Max said Erroll was prepared to try and help the agent come to terms with but Spencer did not expect a sudden change in his behaviour. Some of his problems were very deep seated and he had become very set in his behavioural patterns. The one thing that was very obvious, when Emily had left him with the Morgan women that time in Chicago, was that Morgan's mother spoilt him. Derek was definitely the favoured child and Mrs. Morgan would not hear any criticism of her beloved son. Morgan's elder sister, Sarah, still didn't like taking a back seat to her brother and was prepared to remind her Mom of the real picture beyond her rose tinted spectacles. However, just making Morgan face the Buford demons was a good thing as the suppression of that period in his life had affected his relationships, particularly with women, and his desire to be the department's 'Superman'.

"What are you thinking about?" Jo sleepily asked, as she had become aware of his caresses but noted that he also seemed miles away.

"The events I was told about yesterday," Spencer replied thoughtfully.

"Well, that Garcia would have been dismissed if Uncle Jeff had been in charge and Morgan must lead a pretty sad life if he spends all his time staking you out. Besides, if you are all supposed to be elite profilers, why hadn't they used their intelligence…you are training with the psych department so they're hardly going to let a druggie do that! Honestly, doesn't give me any confidence in the quality of FBI agents these days…."

Spencer chuckled at her unique way of summing up his colleagues, "I love you," he said simply and hugged her close, "I just hope I pass your test for FBI credibility?"

"Oh you're my personal 'G man' and the best in all departments," she replied with laughter in her voice and suddenly moved and kissed him deeply.

Spencer gave in to this teasing warmth, he had to make the most of the time his work allowed him to have with his most precious friend. Later she made him pancakes for breakfast and suddenly asked him,

"You want to go home don't you?"

Spencer looked into her dark eyes, that appeared black in the early morning light of her living room, he couldn't lie,

"I like your apartment but…"

"Our home is really your place," she finished for him.

"Yeah, I like my apartment now I've decorated it and well it's bigger…"

"Right," said Jo, "I agree, you can fit this apartment in your living room and still have plenty of space to move. Shall I take your things back today?"

"Only if you're coming back with them," he replied, not wanting to hurt her feelings because it had been a wonderful escape on Friday evening.

"Oh you're not getting rid of me so easily…I mean that bath of yours comes high on my list of essentials for comfortable living…" she said with her black eyes twinkling.

"I'm not going to ask where I fit on the list," he replied, but he knew that he was as important to her world as she was to his.

"OK, I'll pack your case and take things back this afternoon as I'm only working in the Washington office this morning…Just don't forget to drive home tonight," she commanded.

"No I won't, but you're sure you don't mind?" asked Spencer aware that this apartment had represented an important step for Jo in regaining her confidence after the assault.

"No, you sleep better back home and this is like an office to me now…and I forgot to bring the lute, I've missed your playing," she confessed. Spencer had to admit that it been remiss of him not to have put it on his list last Saturday. It all seemed a long time ago now but he hoped that the team would come together again and be stronger from the personal learning curves that they had all been on recently.

Derek Morgan sat at his breakfast bar hugging a hot coffee. He had not slept well, every time he closed his eyes he was reminded of the unknown teenage boy he had found all those years ago. Then there were the memories of Carl Buford, who had been like a father at first before every thing had become confused and complicated as he was trapped into something he didn't want but the prize was a college place. He drank deeply of the black bitter liquid, 'as bitter as his life,' he thought absently as he drained the mug. At least he was not going to be having counselling sessions with Max and perhaps Erroll Hart would understand something of the culture he was from. He decided on a shower to help to wake him up.

Jack bounced on his Dad's knee as they enjoyed the picture book together…Hotch didn't think it had much of a story but the bright illustrations, of a boy having a pony ride around his town, were the big attraction to his son.

Hayley laughed as she put the breakfast dishes into the machine. Jack had woken them early by climbing out of his bed to join his parents. He loved his Dad being home and having an early breakfast with him was important even if it would play havoc with the rest of Jack's routine for the day.

"OK that's the last ride, Daddy's got to go to work now," said Hotch

Jack looked up and smiled, Hotch wasn't sure that his toddler son understood his words but he loved this little bit of family life. Sometimes it would be his last memory for a week or so if they were suddenly called on a case but, at least for the next few days, they had normal office hours and they could behave like a normal family.

"Come on, Jack, you have to let Daddy go to work now and help Mommy with the shopping," said Hayley cheerfully lifting the boy off Hotch's lap to allow him to get up and put his jacket on.

"I'll aim to be home at a reasonable hour," he assured, "But I don't know when Strauss will want to see me."

Hayley gave him a sympathetic look, "Just remember none of it is your fault," she said firmly.

"I should have told the team that Reid was going to be late that morning…"

"Aaron!" Hayley's voice held a tone he knew well, "Stop beating yourself up...its over. Reid seems to be all right about it and wants to stay with the team and, from what you said, sounds quite happy with his girlfiend…I'm pleased for him, he's such a sweet guy to be in the BAU."

Hotch looked at his wife, she was so sane considering that she put up with him and his work, "Yeah, she must be very special to fill in those forms and she's stable enough to cope with the loneliness of the work according to Reid. He wouldn't have let it go this far unless he sees a future in it and her family have accepted him. I've got to go. Bye Jack, be good and help Mommy," he said ruffling Jack's hair which seemed to be changing to a more golden brown. He kissed Hayley quickly on her cheek before dashing out to his car in an attempt to avoid the rain.

Aaron Hotchner did not go immediately to his office, but made his way to the 4th floor of the Mental Health Services department and strode down the corridor to see if Max's door was open. He knew Max had arrived because he had asked at reception, but he had no idea how Max timetabled his day and he hoped that he would not find him in an early departmental meeting.

Max was not seated at his desk but Hotch could see that he was on the couch reading a newspaper. He tapped on the door, Max peered over the paper and his spectacles seemed to make his dark eyes even larger as they scrutinised the visitor. The Head of Mental Health Services immediately lowered his paper on recognising Hotch and smiled a greeting,

"Good morning…come and have some coffee," he invited and Hotch was pleased that he had not found him busy. He closed the door and went and helped himself to a mug of freshly brewed coffee and felt that perhaps this morning might be better than he had anticipated.

Max was silent and just folded up his paper and picked up his own almost full mug from the oak coffee table. He thought that Hotch was holding himself in a stiff way but then he always did have that officious stern air about him. He waited for Hotch to sit opposite...

"You OK with how things turned out yesterday?" he asked solicitously.

"Yeah, Morgan's lucky he wasn't kicked out the BAU and I will probably have to fight his corner with Strauss," Hotch replied ruefully.

"Don't worry about it, this department is trying to save two agents and their expertise for the Bureau, financially that makes sense as you don't just throw away experience. We could of course have chosen to train someone to replace him from the rich pool of talent that's always hoping for such a placement, but it still takes time to replace experience and that is costly."

"You think she'll buy it?" asked Hotch, taking a sip of the expensive coffee and wondered how this department could afford the luxury or perhaps it was Max's own.

"Hotch I will give you this word of advice about dealing with Strauss, go for her weaknesses…you are a profiler, there are enough clues in that office of hers. She's scared of us psychs so if you ever feel cornered, use your profiling skills." Max said coolly and Hotch was again reminded that this man was powerful because he did know how to fight the internal political battles of the Bureau. Max knew when to take a back seat and observe and when to act, it was a careful balance. Hotch felt better feeling that Max seemed to be working to help him, rather than against the BAU, at the moment.

"Is Gideon all right with Don?" asked Hotch changing the subject.

"I spoke to Don last night and he says that they have been having some good sessions. Gideon's genuinely upset about failing to handle Reid's return properly, but I think that seeing Reid's statement was an eye-opener and he has a greater respect for the man's skills. Reid showed his strengths, it took guts to take the steps he did. When he contacted Arthur, Reid recognised that he still needed help because Gideon had not provided the support. A lesser agent might not have had the self-awareness and confidence to ask for help and would have tried to struggle on their own…"

"Like Elle did you mean," Hotch interjected.

"Elle was not the easiest of personalities and her own sense of being better than the men around her didn't help. I suspect that she would never have admitted that she needed help," Max quietly said realising that the woman would haunt the BAU for some time to come. "It's a great shame that my department is always viewed suspiciously, whereas we are here to help agents know their strengths and to help them over those times when the job has taken a hit. I like to save the wounded and help them to heal and some even end up better in the job after our intervention."

"Like you believe Reid will be," said Hotch sipping his coffee.

"Oh, most definitely, he has faced his demons and is stabilising well considering that Gideon was not giving him the support but he had the wisdom to seek it elsewhere. I wish he had told us about Jo going to Europe though; I would have delayed his return to the BAU. Jo is fast becoming his anchor; he is now far steadier and you'll see that steadiness strengthen when you return to fieldwork. You processed her forms yet?"

"It was just a formality because of the screening she to had to go through for the Fairfax Estates work…they deal with some very sensitive people…I had a phone call from the Pentagon because I was checking out that assault on her. However, as soon as I explained why they were fine and assured me that the whole family checks out and they didn't have any problems with her relationship with Agent Reid."

"Yes, I'm not sure Reid realised to begin with but I think Alan Petersen has probably filled in a few blanks there…he's a good man."

"So you know the family?" asked Hotch quite intrigued by this snippet of information.

"Only socially because my wife is into charity work for the Memorial Hospital and Margaret Petersen is the Chair of the Fund Raising Committee. Alan, like the rest of us husbands, occasionally gets taken to events!"

Hotch grinned, suddenly Max was appearing very human.

"Anyway, why are you really here?" Max suddenly took control again.

"You promised to tell me why you don't like Gideon?" Hotch simply stated.

"Ah…it's been niggling at you. I'm a professional and it's my duty to help those in my remit whether I personally like them or not. I recognise Gideon's abilities as a profiler and I'm trying to get him to retirement without the work breaking him. He's a masterful strategist and that comes with experience and being pitted against some very wily opponents. However, the real reason I don't like Gideon is because he serves two masters," Max firmly stated and watched for Hotch's response.

Hotch was immediately reminded of the Bruno Hawks case which as far as the CIA and FBI were concerned, never took place. He remembered how uncomfortable he had felt entering the CIA domain and yet how Gideon smoothly and confidently dealt with things. Gideon refused to go into details of how long he had worked for the CIA and Hotch didn't like the secrecy implied.

"You understand don't you…You see I know how the CIA works because I was once an agent who got caught and tortured and when rescued decided on a change of career and went into psychology. My old masters offered me a psych position after I'd retrained but I preferred a complete break and I only serve the one master…the Bureau."

"Which is why you went all out to help Reid…you felt you could save him?"

"Yes, I've helped others aswell in the past…I'd not expected to personally take an active part but fate dealt a hand and we played it."

"So the CIA didn't mind you altering your allegiance?" Hotch asked out of sheer curiosity.

"Well, by the time I'd finished my psychology doctorate and re-training, I was hardly a threat to them…things had moved on …But I am sworn to secrecy over the actual work I was involved in. Reid's been approached you know…" Hotch looked at him sharply.

"Exceptional minds are always kept an eye on and offered positions if suitable. Reid's doctorates, in theoretical mathematics and then theoretical physics, were an interest to them and he was approached through his universities at 17 and 19, but he turned them down. Reid told me that Gideon had asked him if he'd ever thought about working for the CIA and he just told him how he wasn't interested when they asked him before and he hadn't changed his mind. Gideon respected him and never mentioned it again."

"When was this?" asked the alert Unit Chief.

"Oh, before you took over, I think Reid said he was 22, so about a year after joining."

Hotch breathed with some relief, he liked people to be committed to the Bureau and he wanted to be able to trust the genius.

"Don't doubt Reid, you can trust him, Hotch. Think about his statement and how he wanted both you and Gideon to see it…He was prepared for both of you to know how he felt because he knew Gideon needed help and also saw that the team still needed Gideon's expertise. I will tell you something from a session at the Clinic. Reid was asked whom he would like to be with if stranded on a desert island. He was to give an example from his circle outside work and the other from within. He replied Dr. Bishop, with whose family he had lived with while at the University in Las Vegas, and the other was you, not Gideon. So you think about what that tells you…"

Max's phone broke into the conversation and he smoothly rose to reach it on his desk. Hotch saw him run a hand through his thick iron grey hair but he didn't say a word. For Hotch the mannerisms told him that something important had happened and their time was over. He rose leaving the empty mug on the table and nodded his goodbye to Max, who gave him a nod of gratitude for understanding his unspoken need to end their chat. Hotch closed the door behind him but felt more confident about dealing with Max in the future although he hoped that would not happen too often.

Morgan was in his black slacks, pale blue shirt and black leather jacket. He had decided to go for a casual look as he was suspended and didn't bother with a tie but had the two top shirt buttons undone. He walked into the reception area of level 3 of the Mental Health Services department and flashed the receptionist a smile but it lacked his usual bravado.

"Good morning, do you have an appointment?" the married redhead asked, her smile was warm but not flirtatious. Morgan thought her quite attractive and if she had not been wearing a ring he might have been friendlier.

"Yes, I'm Derek Morgan and I have an appointment with Dr. Erroll Hart," he formally replied.

She looked at her computer screen, "Erroll will see you in room 9, straight down the corridor and it's on the right," she replied helpfully and gave another smile to ease his way into this world.

Most of the agents he knew came here reluctantly for annual psych evaluations or assessment after difficult situations, usually shootings, but they also liked to see you if your partner or team members got hurt. The team had all been debriefed after the Hankel case by the psychs, it had been an unusual situation and the team had needed to talk it through with these people.

The door to room 9 was open and he could see that Erroll Hart was already there, he knocked on the door lightly.

The dapper Negro looked up and smiled, a genuine smile that creased the lines round his eyes, "Come in Derek, contrary to popular belief we psychs are human but not cannibals so we don't eat our patients," he said in greeting.

"I look that apprehensive?" Morgan asked and closed the door.

"Help yourself to coffee, Derek, and choose your couch," The deep voice ordered.

Morgan went over to the side and poured himself a mug of percolated coffee and he took in the room as he carried it back to the black leather couches. It was a rectangular room with a very dark brown carpet. There was a grey steel framed functional desk, with a mock wood desktop, on which a computer terminal sat. The desk was in front of a large rectangular window, but any view was itself obscured by the narrow bottle green Venetian blinds. The two chairs in front of the desk were black leather like the two couches at the opposite end of the room. These were expensive looking, the type that were comfortable without the sitter feeling they were sinking into soft pillows. The walls were a buttermilk colour and there were only two large pictures for decoration. The first was a water colour of New York City from Staten Island in a shiny thin steel frame, while the second was a modern floral painting, in a narrow black frame, of a bunch of yellow, white and orange chrysanthemums on a blood red background.

"You like art, Derek?" asked Erroll Hart who had noticed how his eyes had settled on these pictures.

"I read more than I go to art galleries although I like some things, but it's just the pretentiousness of art that I don't like. I like these, they represent things but in a way I understand. I don't see the reason behind a pile of bricks or a plank of wood exhibited as art," said Morgan admiring the landscape.

"I bought that view of New York 5 years ago, it's a very early JEM painting and JEM is gaining in popularity and hence its value has risen. Apparently JEM is from Virginia and only has one outlet for his work in Alexandria. Reid saw it a few weeks ago and told me that he has bought two JEMs for his apartment. The larger one was very expensive but he knew it would go in his newly decorated living room. Arthur says it's very impressive…"

"What…the painting or the decorating?"

"Both! Arthur gave Spencer the project of decorating his apartment to reflect his personality when he left the Clinic and I gather the results are impressive…But you never asked him what he'd been doing with his time while on sick leave."

"No, I didn't," Morgan admitted and came to sit down in the middle of the nearest couch.

Only after he had sat down did Erroll take his own bright yellow mug of coffee and go and sit directly opposite Morgan on the other identical couch.

"There's a purpose for this play?" Morgan asked watching him sit down.

"I gave you a choice where to sit…You didn't even ask about Reid's sick leave but you believed that you were entitled to invade his world. He made his choice when he perceived the invasion and retreated even further away. In effect, Spencer didn't even offer you a seat, he stood in the doorway, and saw you, and then decided not even to enter the room…Now Derek, those are not the actions of a close friend."

Morgan was silent for a few moments, Erroll had made his point and he wanted to move on.

"OK I get the point," Morgan replied with a very subdued voice. He knew that he had annoyed the genius and had been put in his place.

"Morgan…listening to you yesterday," Erroll's deep voice had taken on a gentler tone and Morgan looked up surprised at the sudden change, "You were quite rambling, you kept repeating yourself…about the Reid you had known but who was now lost. I'm not sure that you even realised that really you don't know him very well and what you have lost is your ability to control what you thought was a friendship with him. I was saddened because you obviously do care about the welfare of your colleague but you don't know how to express it in an appropriate way.

Reid was aware that you were trying to help him on the plane after the Westchester case, but you were the wrong person at the time…Just like Reid himself tried with Elle, but he too was the wrong person. I suppose superficially people might imagine you are alike because you're both single, only sons, fathers who left your lives around the same age and both ending up as profilers in an elite team. However, when you look more closely, you are both very different, I think that's where we'll start…" said Erroll jumping into the real reason for the agent's attendance in the room.

Morgan felt reluctant to participate but he knew that if he didn't show willing then this man could end his career.

"Now Reid is an only child but you have two sisters…am I correct?" Erroll invited a response.

Morgan breathed deeply thinking this a waste of time but picked up the ball thrown to him, "Yeah, Sarah and Desiree."

"Do you have any other relations?"

"I believe that I've cousins in Albany but we're not close, there was a family split…my uncle and his parents didn't approve of his sister marrying a black man," Morgan explained in a flat voice.

"Does your Mom ever talk about her family?"

"No, we have nothing to do with them…not even Christmas cards, they totally disowned my Mom."

"Yes, the more liberally minded like to think that the melting pot really existed forty years ago but it has been slow to be accepted in reality. So your mother was isolated by the white community and the black one…she must feel very lonely at times," said Erroll, as he began to fill in between the lines of the report into the family background.

"Look, my Mom worked as a secretary at the hospital and my Dad was an electrician and worked hard for a living, he kept out of trouble and loved my Mom. We kids had a loving home and his death affected all of us." Morgan said defensively.

"Of course it did, you were old enough to have lots of memories of your father, but as a family you were isolated because you didn't fit in either racial camp."

Morgan didn't reply; they had been a tightly knit family and he didn't want to hear what this psych had to say about them. It had been a good family compared with the others in their neighbourhood where the majority were considered 'dysfunctional'.

"Reid is an only child of only children and he never knew grandparents. He was 10 when his father left and then he only had his mother, and never saw or heard from his father again before he died when he was 12. Now you too were 10 when your father was killed?"

"Yes, I witnessed it and my school arranged counselling for me and my older sister had counselling in her school as well. I don't see what relevance this has to things…" Morgan said impatiently. He had gone over all of this when he had entered the FBI and even before that at his interview for a university scholarship.

"Oh it's very relevant. You see, you're the only son, your mother and two sisters spoilt you as you were perceived as suffering the most because you witnessed Dad being killed and they have never stopped spoiling you. I bet they make excuses for you even now. When you got into trouble, mixing with the wrong kids, they made excuses for you. Your mother wouldn't let your sisters mix with the wrong sort of people but she didn't pull you into line…now that's very bad parenting."

"You leave my Mom out of this!" Morgan exploded defensively.

"But Derek, she made no attempt to stop you from going out with the wrong crowd. When you started to play truant, she didn't stop you going out in an attempt to negotiate you going back to school. Your school principal tried to get her to discipline you but she was always making excuses…"

Erroll got up and picked up a file from the desk and began to look at some notes as he made his way back to his seat…

"Mr. Tamling noted that, 'Mrs. Morgan's only answer to her son's absences were that he had seen his father shot and he was still upset from this and that the school was not being sensitive enough to that fact. Any discipline problem within the school was explained away by Mrs. Morgan in this manner and she would not take any responsibility for her son's growing behavioural problems.' Now that to me is an irresponsible parent," Erroll said firmly.

"When was that said?" asked a surprised Morgan.

"At a background case hearing for the juvenile courts when you were 13. Your school principal even thought you would be better in a foster home. However, because your sisters were well behaved and no problem, they concluded that you'd got yourself into the wrong crowd because you had no strong male figure in your family."

Morgan was quiet, he had thought because he had got into the FBI that all his past would be buried, never to resurface. He knew they would investigate his family but he had been allowed in and had not considered what might be in his file concerning these personal searches.

"My Mom loved my Dad and us kids, I just went through a bit of a wild stage by getting in with the wrong crowd… I calmed down when I got into sport and my juvenile record got expunged. I began to work hard and made something of the opportunities that came my way," Morgan countered.

"But the damage had already been done, Derek. You see we develop self discipline by having our excesses curbed…and that does not mean by physical force, I mean by responsible adults saying 'No!' Your mother never firmly said the 'no' word and meant it. She spoilt you and I suspect you were her favourite being the boy and like your father. I bet you were a bright attractive boy who turned on the charm and probably said 'sorry' to her face and promptly did the same thing again as soon as you left the house. You had a bit of a wild side Morgan and you still have…and you can still behave like an adolescent kid.

You call Reid the kid, but Reid was the child carer of a mentally sick mother, doing the shopping, cleaning, cooking, trying to persuade her to take her pills and being a bright student in an ordinary school, where he was bullied by both sexes. While you were running wild, Reid was being a little adult, he was never a kid and you insult him every time you use that term or treat him like one!"

Morgan sat feeling like a 6 year old in the naughty corner, he well remembered that position from his first two years at school. He knew about Reid's mother since the Garner case but the team never mentioned it openly in the BAU. Morgan had not known about her when they had celebrated Spencer's 24th birthday, with hindsight he'd probably been a bit over the top with the hat and candles thing. Furthermore, since knowing about Diana Reid, Morgan had not considered what it must have meant to grow up with a mother like that and the extra teasing the younger man must have endured.

"I had assumed that her illness had taken over once he was away at university," Morgan said in his defence, "He never talked about his childhood other than saying he got bullied a lot and that his dad had left the family."

"Considering you're a profiler, you don't discretely apply it closer to home," Erroll replied tartly. Although privately Erroll thought Dr. Spencer Reid was as difficult to read as Max Pentall.

"But let's take a closer look at your family. Your mother has not remarried or it seems even made an attempt to have another relationship after a reasonable period of mourning. She lives in the same apartment and your younger sister lives at home. Your elder sister has not formed lasting relationships but has asserted her independence by leaving the immediate vicinity and has her own circle of regular friends," continued Erroll.

"Yeah, Sarah's very hard working and has done evening courses in office administration to better herself."

"But what about Desiree?"

"Well, Desiree…she's had problems, she had OCD and if under stress this surfaces and she can't hold down jobs…She now works as a desk clerk at a small hotel but she's better educated than you would think. I think the stress is why she stays at home, she did try living on her own, and sharing, but in the end she always comes home," explained Morgan carefully, hoping that Erroll would then have a better understanding of his younger sister's problems

"I'm sure that your Mom always welcomes her because it still means she has one of her children at home," replied Erroll evenly.

"Look, my Mom works at the local hospital and has always had time for us. She cares for Desiree and wants her to feel comfortable and supports her," Morgan justified.

"But why hasn't your Mom moved to a better area in the city?"

"I guess it's because she has good memories there and feels she's happiest with those memories physically around her. I have suggested moving but she's always says that she's happy where she is," Morgan replied feeling that he had to defend his absent mother.

"I think there is also an element of not fitting in either the black or white communities. As a white woman she would be faced with the disapproval…and you know what I mean. To your face people are apparently friendly but behind her back, with you children, there would have been some who would have looked down her for not finding a man amongst her own kind. Then of course you children might have had a difficult time being mixed race."

"Sarah has done good and so has Desiree in her own way and I'm not complaining," retorted Morgan.

"But she's not moved on, like everything else has she…she's still trapped in the memory of your father,"

"Hey! They had a good marriage man…Just don't denigrate that!" protested Morgan his temper rising.

"Morgan it was over 26 years ago, she should have her treasured memories, but I get the impression that your Mom's life revolves around you children and she has closed herself off to the possibility of another man in her life," replied Erroll calmly.

"So what's wrong with that…They loved each other, that was enough for her and she just feels she doesn't want anyone else!" exploded Morgan again.

"You know, usually with younger women, even when they have children, after going through the normal stages of mourning, they start to pick up their lives again…often after 3 or 4 years but I admit, some take longer. However, your Mom has made no effort, she hasn't even tried and I think that has lead to a false idolisation of your Dad. She hasn't even tried to socialise with men, if she had then the 'No one else is considered good enough' excuse might be acceptable. Your mother was obviously deeply affected by her husband's death but it hasn't helped you children…you're all still trapped by the event. Your Mom is as obsessive as your younger sister…I bet she still has some of your father's clothes."

Morgan looked sharply at Erroll but the psych knew he was correct in the assumption.

"This has had a further effect, your sisters also measure any man up against an idolised image of a father who was loved, but is long dead. Meanwhile, because you didn't have any male family members to interact with and didn't see your Mom mixing with any men, you didn't have a rival for your Mom's affections. You don't know how to handle strong affection, and even see it has a weakness, because strong emotions can make you seem vulnerable and that's how you perceive your Mom's devotion to your father's memory. Not seeing your Mom trying to have friendships with other men, together with what Buford did, has affected your relationships with those around you. They tend to be superficial, immature, you use women and avoid going to places where you might meet a steady partner."

""I do not! You make me sound like a dog!"

"But that's how you behave. You flirt at every opportunity; you're partying and dancing to pick up a woman for the night. It's a casual meeting for both of you…some good sex with a pretty woman and then back to blaming work for not having a steady relationship. Of course this type of behaviour began at college to prove to yourself that you were definitely heterosexual, it was the after effect of Buford's abuse. You were good looking, athletic and the typical sports jock. Some women threw themselves at you and boy did you enjoy those wild days…Most men go through early relationships where they're really just for the sex…we males are pretty driven. But we gradually grow out of it and want something more…but then we hit the double standards thing where we then want a better woman than the one that's been screwing around like we have. Usually by the time we get to our early 30's, and more settled in our careers, that's when we want something a lot better. Well that's the usual way of things these days…of course there are still those who marry their childhood sweethearts or the girl they met at college, but usually most partners have a bit more sexual experience these days.

But look at you Derek, you're 36, have never had a steady relationship beyond what… a month I'd guess. You're still good looking and the women you meet are impressed with the FBI tag, but then they are younger because women tend to look for the slightly older mate who's already settled in his career. Then you wonder why you don't have close male friends…Your contemporaries have entered stable relationships, some married, some maybe divorced but at least they have tried to have something a little more meaningful. Reid's found a partner, it might not last, but he has made the effort to relate to someone on a deeper level, but you're afraid to do that! You're still stuck in the rut of the college jock, you haven't emotionally grown up because you're scared…Real, deep loving relationships are based on trust…but you don't trust because of what Buford did and you are still denying it to your self."

"Look, I've dealt with the Buford thing, I persuaded James Barfield to testify against him... I couldn't because of the statute of limitations, so lets get past it."

"But we can't Derek because it's why you behaved like you did with Reid, it's why you treat women for sexual pleasure and it's why, if your not careful, you'll end up being laughed at behind your back as the elderly roué still partying into your 60's! It's the reason why you have this need to be seen as the action hero, all macho, because you're scared out of your wits that you just might not be as heterosexual as you try to project…"

"Hey, you're getting way off course!" Morgan growled like an animal backed in to a corner and snarling ready to strike out at the perceived threat.

Erroll merely looked at him calmly, "Oh I think I'm dead on track Derek, and unless you look at those demons you are never going to grow up and understand the sensitivity that you do have for others but it scares you. You are scared to admit that you care about Reid…just in case it might be misinterpreted and your friendship is rejected…and you are feeling rejected right now by him," Erroll quietly stated.

Hart weighed up the effect his words were having on the agent and felt he had to give him something positive.

"Reid trusts you with his back out in the field but he doesn't want to spend his off duty time with you because the only thing you two appear to have in common is work. He appreciates that you were concerned about him but Friday night…he'd had a difficult day. Gideon had misread the situation with Reid and wasn't supporting him properly. Well Reid had asked for help from another psych and so Gideon had to explain his behaviour for not helping Spencer as laid down in the guidelines…"

"Yeah…well Gideon can be moody and does tend to do things his way…and we noticed which is why we acted," interjected Morgan.

"Yes, the board noted your reasons and took them into account to give you this second chance. Spencer reacted in a very annoyed fashion on Friday because he does like to switch off from the job but also he'd spent a few hours, from the lunchtime, explaining to a panel of psychs what had been happening to him since his return to the BAU. He'd gone home to relax because he was upset at having to expose Gideon's failings in not handling his return properly. Seeing your car and its occupants was probably the last straw for that day. Do you understand what I'm trying to say? Reid doesn't hate you…you're a trusted colleague but the friendship is in the Bureau. He will probably introduce his partner to the team at the Bureau's usual little get together at Christmas…"

"You think he'll still be with this person?"

"Max seems to think so…that's only 3 months to wait to satisfy your curiosity, and he might mention her before that…but Reid's been under a lot of pressure himself," Erroll tried to soothe and saw the agent finally begin to relax. Erroll Hart was beginning to realise that Reid's actions had upset Morgan more than the board had realised.

"I guess I over-reacted to how he's been behaving and I should have gone to Hotch when I found those bottles." Morgan quietly conceded.

"Yes, but we also have to face your demons, Derek, so you have to show a bit more respect for other people's personal space."

"I do respect other people's space," Morgan replied feeling the accusation was unjustified.

"Well you didn't respect Reid's…"

"Look, I admit I was wrong, I should've taken my concerns to Hotch and I shouldn't have staked out his apartment but I really was concerned about him. He's so nerdy…I can't imagine what his friends are like because he never mentions any…I assumed he was on his own…"

"What I find fascinating is your double standard again…When you got arrested in Chicago you told Hotch and Gideon to back off from your personal life. Gideon wanted you to trust him because he knew you were hiding something which, in the end, he and Hotch worked out."

Morgan found himself tuning out the psych and remembering the interview room and the obviously concerned Gideon…

"You need to trust us…Trust us enough to tell us about it," Gideon had said in the oppressive room where Morgan was feeling increasingly alone and confined.

"It's not about trust…It's about having a little privacy. I got the right to keep something to myself. Look at us man…we practically live together already," he had replied and now the words came back to remind him how he had not respected Reid's privacy.

Derek Morgan forced his mind to switch off from the vivid memory and concentrate on Hart's voice.

"Reid doesn't mention his friends because he separates work and leisure, Derek." Erroll said quietly, he knew that Morgan was very sensitive about this whole subject but he had to get this man to face the suppressed memories. He seemed to be very quiet at the moment and Erroll suspected he was only half listening to him.

"But you were reluctant to tell Gideon or Hotch about Buford despite the fact that you had been arrested on suspicion of murdering a boy…so that shows that you like to have a private life but you don't think it's reasonable for Reid to have his own…"

"Look, it was way past the statute of limitations and there was no evidence against Buford. It was only after I'd spoken to James Barfield that I realised he'd been interfering with him aswell, it was the similar pattern…no father figure, the boy had talent and Buford was offering the way out. You don't know what that feels like, when you are shown an escape from the inner city and the prospect of money for your family…You know its not just you, if you break into the sport then the monies big!"

"I'm listening Derek, you've never talked about it in any depth have you?" the older man said gently, as he sensed the tension radiating from the man seated opposite.

"I don't know where to begin really," began Morgan in a sad defeated voice, "You are nearer the truth about Mom than I want to think about. Sarah would always say to Mom that she would let me get away with things…you know like when we squabbled as children, Sarah would say I was the favourite. Mom would always deny it but I was treated differently to the girls, I thought it was just because I was the boy. I think now she must have been very depressed after Dad got killed but there was no one to support her, no family to come and help with us kids, and no spare money for bereavement counselling. Desiree was only a baby and she had to get a job and find a reliable minder for her while we were at school. I know now she was incredibly strong to keep us together as a family but it must have been difficult and I didn't help.

It wasn't just Mom's family that disowned her but Dad's brother aswell. Neal was in the army and he didn't approve of the marriage. He thought Dad shouldn't have married Mom just because he got her pregnant. We never knew Neal and Mom only mentioned this when he died and he'd named Dad as the sole beneficiary of his will. Neal specifically stated that the money was to be shared between the children if Dad was dead and nothing was to go to Mom. I used my share towards a deposit on my house. Sarah put hers towards the apartment in a nicer area and Desiree has I think put most off it in savings, but she did buy a better car. We all put some of our money towards buying Mom a better car too for that Christmas because she wouldn't have anything more. It didn't seem right that she would be specifically ignored and she insisted that we do something special with our portion of the money because she didn't need it anyway. So you were right, Mom didn't fit in either camp. But we love her very much and now I realise more than ever how I must have been seen as a problem child and she was just out of her depth," Morgan said, slowly shaking his head at the memories that were surfacing.

"If it helps, my uncle married a Mexican dentist, one half of the family approved while the other half didn't. We children learnt not to mention our cousins who lived in Philadelphia to the grandparents and the aunts and their families. It was a very happy marriage but still frowned upon in the 60's," Erroll said and Morgan began to see him more sympathetically. "My cousins were fortunate because their parents were in good professions but they said that they were still looked down upon in their predominantly white neighbourhood and at their expensive school," Erroll further revealed.

Morgan nodded, the memories were flooding back and part of him wished that they were still locked down.

"It's best to talk about those times Derek, talking about those memories will help you settle them as an adult so that they no longer have such an emotional hold on you in a destructive way," Erroll gently urged, waiting for the agent to gather his thoughts together.

"We were very close as a family because it was just us…My Mom came from Albany and Dad was from Syracuse, they met while Dad was re-wiring the office where Mom worked. The opposition from the families lead them to move to Chicago where Dad had been offered work with a construction company. When I went to school, Mom went out to work, at the local health clinic, and fitted the work round our school times. Then when I was 9, she got pregnant with Desiree. I think she was the big surprise and as unplanned as Sarah had been. Sarah and me, we thought having a baby around was great but we didn't understand that it meant another mouth to feed.

Dad did a lot of overtime but he always found time to take us to the park and just play with us at the weekends. Looking back, I had a couple of friends but our families didn't mix so I guess we were a bit isolated. As I got older, the kids in my class used to say that my Mom was pushing us to be like her. Sarah's feisty and used to snap back that we were proud of our Mom because she had a good regular job, like our Dad, and she wanted to get a good job when she left school too. Then suddenly our world fell apart when Dad was shot. I still, after all these years, can get that dream…you know where you relive it as if its happening…I can even smell the blood and I can taste my tears…" Morgan stopped caught up in the emotions of the memory. Erroll sat quietly knowing that this journey was painful but necessary, if only to see his family without the rose tinted spectacles.

Morgan was aware of the silence in the room and looked up into the older Negro's face. Derek thought he only saw compassion but then questioned his judgement wondering if that was because he wanted to see compassion in Erroll.

"Sorry," Derek mumbled apologetically.

"You're doing just fine Derek, take your time…these memories have been kept in the darkest cupboard of your mind for far too long," Erroll softly assured, his deep rich voice held no censure. "Seeing your Dad shot must have been terrifying."

Morgan swallowed there was so much that as a child he couldn't even try and explain but he had suppressed so much…He slammed down hard on the memories.

"My school did arrange regular counselling sessions for a year after Dad's death, it was the same for Sarah, so I guess we were treated well but Mom had to go back to work and the baby had to go to a minder. The hospital hours were longer and the pay better but Sarah, being the eldest, took on more responsibility and collected Desiree from the minder and helped prepare the evening meal. I wasn't any help, I just wanted to be out playing and ignored Sarah who I thought was just bossing me around. Mom was worn out at night but she never complained. I think it was around this time that I began to run errands for the older boys. I was on the periphery of a gang, not really accepted because of my white Mom, but still I had the kudos of being seen with the right street people.

Mom couldn't handle it. Sarah tried to tell her what I was upto and Sarah tried to stop me going out with the gang, but she was only a year older than me and I wasn't listening to her! I started skipping the odd day at school, then it became two or three and I got caught up in minor vandalism…Graffiti and tipping over the trash cans at the back of stores…It gave me 'street cred' with the gang but my Mom and school were not amused by my behaviour. Then I got into this fight with a rival gang and it lead to an assault charge because the guy had to go to the hospital and the street cop, Gordinski, really had it in for me from that day. It was because of him that I got arrested as the suspect in those child murders…

Looking back now, my Mom must have been frantic that I might end up in Juvenile Detention, but then Buford saw me playing football in the street and invited me to his Youth Centre. He said I had talent and could learn how to play football properly. He had a rule, no gang members because he didn't want the gang troubles in the centre. I went along and thought it was wonderful, suddenly all my excess energy was being channelled in a purposeful way. Buford told us boys how important school was and that we needed to be literate and numerate for us to get a better job. We boys really looked up to Carl Buford, he listened to us and we felt valued for our efforts. Most of the boys at the centre had no father around and if you had all women at home it was good to have a man to relate to. I was nearly 14 when I first started going and Buford began to take an interest in my school work and mentoring me…He gradually began to take the role of a substitute father and Mom would come along and watch me play when we had a game. I saw her happy again and because she seemed to like Buford too, I thought every thing was OK.

My game began to improve and I practised at every opportunity. Mom always knew where I was, at the Youth Centre, so she didn't hassle me especially when Buford told her that I had talent and he said I had a chance of a sports scholarship. He knew I had a juvenile record and when I was 16 he wrote to the court stating that I had changed and had a very good chance of going to college. He explained that my past was the consequence of falling in with the wrong crowd after my father's death. Buford's testimonial resulted in my record being expunged and sealed so I had a lot to thank him for. The only way I was going to get to college was on a full scholarship and my Mom and sisters were so proud of me. I was the star player on the team but then it came with a price," said Morgan and fell silent, once more lost in his memories.

Erroll quietly got up and replenished the coffee mugs, letting the man take stock of the emotions that were surfacing and organising the memories into some coherent form out of the raw emotional journey. He placed the mugs on the table and resumed his seat; it was all going far better than Erroll had anticipated. The disciplinary board had really had an effect on this usually cocky agent; perhaps there was a chance to help this man come to terms with his sensitivity and his guilt. Erroll Hart confidently knew the two areas to probe and they were inter-linked, so he chose to begin with the devastating event that Morgan thought he had laid to rest years ago.

"Now tell me Derek, how did your Dad die?" asked Erroll quietly.

Derek Morgan felt his carefully constructed world had just been blown apart by Hart's strategically aimed missile.

End of Chapter 23.


	24. Chapter 24

The In-Between Times: Chapter 24 The In-Between Times: Chapter 24

**by Helena Fallon**

Reference is made to the episode, 'Profiler, profiled'.

"Now tell me Derek, how did your Dad die?" asked Erroll quietly.

Derek Morgan felt his carefully constructed world had just been blown apart by Hart's strategically aimed missile. He had not expected that question, Morgan had thought he had made it clear that he had a year's counselling while at school and it was a settled matter.

He looked into the calm face of Erroll Hart, which was totally neutral and just waiting to hear what he had to say. Morgan didn't want to go there and the seconds stretched to minutes but the silence was not oppressive, just gently waiting to be broken. Morgan noticed the fresh coffee and reached for the mug, it would give him a little more time to cope with the request. As he took a sip of the coffee he thought how soothing the buttermilk walls were. In his home the walls were all white but he had pictures up so they did have interest. He had never considered experimenting with other colours…to Morgan white was neutral and would go with anything, but as he looked upon the buttermilk he thought that perhaps his choice had been too narrow and he should consider something with a hint of colour. He knew he was avoiding the issue by letting his mind wander and he took a deep breath and tried to re-centre his thoughts on the question.

Morgan was unsure as he felt the panic rising from the depths of his being; he prided himself on being the brave FBI agent. He had been in difficult situations when working undercover for the drugs squad in Philadelphia and then, when his face become known, he had been moved to the next department of his choice; the bomb squad. It had been a surprise choice to many who knew him because they had not known of his interest in explosives. The squad were really called the bomb disposal unit and attached to the anti terrorist force. You had to have calm nerves to handle those situations and he had enjoyed the kudos of being part of a special team that had to work under pressure. Morgan had an interest in psychology because of Desiree's OCD problems, but it deepened when he had became more interested in the psychology of the bomber and the mind that made such potentially lethal weapons. 'Yeah,' he told himself, 'He was a cool dude and could face danger…he had spent his life since that day proving to himself that he wasn't afraid…'

Erroll sat patiently waiting, he had been laying siege to Morgan's 'Superman' image since he had arrived. There was no doubt that this man had proved himself to be a brave individual in field work situations but he was scared to face his inner emotional turmoil. Erroll had decided that he was not going to let this man back to the BAU until they had comforted his emotional demons and thought about them calmly as an adult. It was the only way to break the hold that traumatic memories could have on peoples' lives. The memory would always be there however, by understanding the strong emotions associated with it, a person could break the power such an event could wield upon their life. Erroll picked up his mug and drank his coffee, there was still plenty and he could always ask Judy to make some more.

Morgan sensed a stalemate but this older man had the upper hand and could ultimately end his career with the BAU. He sipped his coffee and tried to get his memories in order….

"It's a long time ago now," Morgan began but he hardly recognised his own unsure voice.

Erroll nodded in understanding, letting him take things at his own pace.

"It was a Saturday afternoon, Dad had been working in the morning because they would get a bonus if the job was finished by the end of weekend and he'd done the electrics so could come home knowing his bit was over. He'd got in at 2:30 and had quick bite to eat and then suggested we go to the park for a run and to kick a ball around…you know just so he could unwind a bit," began Morgan.

"Your Dad liked doing sports like you?"

"Oh Yeah," and Morgan smiled at the sudden memory that sprang to mind of them running around the park with Desiree in her baby buggy. She squealed with the delight of the movement and picked up the happiness of her brother and father as they urged each other on to the top of a steep path. There was a seat at the top to collapse upon after the run up, but it amazed Derek how his Dad could run while pushing the buggy to the top and be still able to talk. He would always slow up just before the seat to allow Derek to win, but the boy would be breathless while the man would chatter away to the giggling Desiree.

Morgan related the story to Erroll but added, "That day, we left Desiree because she was fast asleep and Mom said to let her be. Sarah had gone to the library to find some information for a project on the Pyramids she was doing at school. It was a warm May afternoon, we didn't have our jackets and we spent a couple of hours running and playing ball. At around five, we thought we would head back home but we were thirsty and Dad said we could get an ice cold coke from the store on the way. It was a store we often used on the way home and we just went in like we always did. Mr. Finzi was a small fat and bald man…as a kid I was fascinated by his shiny bald head but he seemed a nice guy who treated everybody with good humour. He often let the poorer families have the fruit and vegetables for a few cents when they needed to be used up quickly. My Mom would get things that had to be eaten that day…so we had really juicy peaches and plums because he said he didn't want to throw them out at the end of the day. For a few cents we would come home with enough to make fruit pies and plum jam sometimes…he was really appreciated by his regular customers. So what happened just didn't make sense…it tore away the heart of the neighbourhood…." Morgan seemed unable to go on and had to stop to try and regain control over his memories.

After several minutes, Erroll decided to help him refocus his thoughts, "Did Mr. Finzi get killed as well?" he asked simply.

"Yeah, I mean it was all so senseless…We walked into it, we had no idea that a robbery was going on…We just walked in, chatting liked normal. Suddenly my Dad stopped and pushed me to the side, beside a wire rack that had packs of little tarts and cakes… "Get down," he whispered to me as he pushed me aside and that's when I saw the gunman. He was wearing a loose parka type jacket despite the warmth of the day and he had a gun…I couldn't take my eyes off that black metal…it was the first real gun I'd ever seen. We saw the beat cops but they always kept their weapons in their holsters… I felt cold and scared, everything seemed so wrong. I wanted to run away but I couldn't move, I was frozen just staring…I couldn't do anything. My Dad just put his hands up about chest height, you know to show that he was no threat…

"Hey Man…Take it easy, none of us want to get hurt here," Terry Morgan said as calmly as he could, but his eyes never left the robber who now had the gun pointed at his chest.

"Get over there…I need to get out!" the tall very thin robber nervously said. He was agitated and Terry noticed the telltale twitches of a user in need of a fix…But then Alberto Finzi reached for his own hidden weapon from under the counter.

The robber was alarmed at the movement and on seeing the gun appear, swung back to the old man, pointed and pulled the trigger, all in one smooth movement as Terry simultaneously shouted, "No!"

Terry made as if to move towards the fallen man but the robber swung round and shot the Negro twice in his chest. The black robber was moving out of the shop door as Terry was falling to the ground…Everything had happened in under a couple of minutes….

"We just disturbed a robbery…he was a junkie and thought the shop was a pushover because it wasn't too bad an area in those days and he probably hadn't thought old Finzi would go for his own weapon. But I just stood there, I couldn't move …I opened my mouth and no sound came out…I couldn't even shout out Dad or help. I was just so terrified…There was the smell of blood and I couldn't even move to touch my Dad…He was all crumpled up and the blood was creeping along the black and white chequered tiled floor to where I was standing and I still couldn't move. Someone…a man who used to own the barbershop round the corner, came to the threshold and ran off to get help and I was still just standing there totally frozen…I couldn't stop shivering.

A couple of beat cops came in and one went to check out my Dad and Finzi while the other came over to me. He crouched down and put both of his hands on my forearms and tried to get me to focus on his face…"

"OK son, you saw what happened?" Officer Tansely asked. The middle aged white cop tried to get the young black kid to respond to him. He had a couple of sons himself, around the same age, and it was obvious to him that this child looked well cared for and belonged to one of the better families in the neighbourhood. The boy's big eyes looked at him in utter disbelief, he was shaking with both shock and fear, and the poor kid had wet his pants in terror.

"You have a name son?" Tansely tried again as gently as he could, wondering how he would respond to his own sons in such a situation.

The boy's mouth began to work but no sound came out. It was obvious that the boy was concerned when his partner, Jackson, went over to check the man nearest the door…Tansely met his partner's eyes,

"Both dead," Jackson briskly remarked.

But in Tansely's hands, the child shook violently and whispered the heartrending, "No…Dad…No!" and collapsed sobbing in his arms. Tansely had held the kid close while his younger partner went to deal with the necessary calls and tried to keep the growing crowd at bay.

Derek Morgan didn't know when the tears had begun to fall but there was Erroll with a box of tissues ready. Morgan no longer worried about appearing weak because he couldn't stop this tidal wave of emotion that flowed from his body. He remembered thinking at the time that he had to be strong for his Mom and his sisters because he was the man at home now. Morgan's re-awakened memories recalled how the numbness continued as he was finally able to give his name and answered the questions the Police needed. Later, he had been taken to the precinct and was treated with kindness but he had to point out the murderer in the line up and it all came bursting back to him…the 2 minutes that changed his life forever.

"You never really let the school counsellor see you cry, did you?" Erroll gently asked.

But Morgan merely shook his head, not trusting his voice for the moment. He had gone to see the school counsellor everyday at first, but he was not going to break in front of her. He had done his crying at the funeral and now he had to get over it just like the other boys in the school had when their Dad's, or step-Dad's, got killed. He was 10 years old and you didn't show your weakness or the other boys would go for it.

"You picked the guy out?"

"Yeah…they got him," Morgan managed to say evenly and blew his nose a few times to clear the accumulating mucus.

"But 10 year old boys don't cry do they?" said Erroll with compassion. Morgan met his eyes and accepted the fact that Erroll did understand more of his situation that he would like, but it didn't seem to really matter any more.

"You were terrified Morgan, any of us would have been. Your Dad was unarmed but he did what he could for you by pushing you to the side and trying to not do anything to antagonise the junkie. He probably didn't even know the old man had a gun under his counter…That's the problem of life, we may be trying to diffuse the situation but we can't always anticipate how our fellow men are going to react," the psychologist quietly and reasonably stated.

"Yeah, it was so senseless…everything happened so quickly and then my life changed and my whole family was in turmoil. I wouldn't cry openly after the funeral. I still had nightmares about the shootings but that was the only thing I'd talk about with the counsellor and never in any depth…I would speak in a dead voice…you know as if I could no longer feel. It wasn't true; sometimes when I woke up in the middle of the night, I would cry myself to sleep. But then I began to berate myself for being a cry baby and I told myself that I was not going to grow up scared. Every time I then had the dream, I was hard on myself and kept reminding myself that it was all over. Crying couldn't bring my Dad back and I had to make sure that no one ever hurt me that much ever again."

"So that is when you set about putting this high wall around your emotions and daring yourself to do more and more dangerous things to prove to yourself that you were not scared," Erroll stated softly.

"Yeah, guess I did…things my Mom never knew about…pretty crazy things really…I used to run across the train tracks, walk along the high walls just to prove I wasn't scared to do it in front of the other boys. I even did some petty stealing for a dare…just a few Hershey bars…"

"Oh that's pretty normal, it's amazing how many of us do it once just to see if we can get away with it. I stole a can of pears in syrup…God knows why other than to prove I could do it, but it was stupid…I hate pears in syrup so I couldn't take the can home to eat because my Mom never bought them," recalled Erroll.

"What did you do?" Morgan asked feeling the thread of understanding growing stronger by the minute with this man.

"Ran like hell from the neighbourhood where I'd stolen the can…I would have been known if I'd tried it where I lived and I thought things might be better if I was not known if caught. Anyway, when I'd calmed down from the escapade…You know, I can still remember thinking that my heart was going to burst with a combination of guilt and worry about being caught," Erroll confessed, shaking his head and a smile formed at the memory, "After all that effort, I threw the pears in the nearest trashcan and I was too scared to go back to that shop ever again…Seriously Derek, I've never been back!"

"Jeez…the things we kids got up to…So you had a bit of a wild streak in you too?"

"Nothing like your exploits but it was my little rebellion for the Church every Sunday and the God fearing ways of my Baptist parents. My next rebellion was the packet of cigarettes…We got one of the older teenagers to get them for us and we sat around trying to pretend to each other that we were real adults smoking in a quiet area of the local park…"

"And you hated every drag!" replied Derek with amusement entering his voice.

"Oh God I felt sick and trying to suppress the coughs that went with it!"

The two men laughed, sharing a common experience and it broke the tension in the room.

"Anyway, the experience put me off smoking for life!" Erroll added and was pleased when Morgan nodded his agreement.

"But you missed your Dad and you were in a female household and thought the women there didn't understand how you felt…" Erroll gently added, bringing the conversation back on track.

"Yeah, I mean our world just became so empty without Dad. Mom was just worn out all the time and Sarah was all bossy and Desiree a whinge…just needing attention that we didn't have the time to give. I wanted to be among men… I was surrounded by feminine things and I needed to prove to myself that I could cope with the neighbourhood and that meant being accepted by the gang members. I knew where the gangs hung out, we all did, but I was on the outside because my Mom was the wrong colour. I just hung around the street corners hoping to see a school kid I knew who was already accepted…You know like already had a brother as a gang member. I was given errands to prove my loyalty."

Your Dad wouldn't have approved?"

"Well he wasn't there to stop me!" Morgan retorted and then realised what he had said.

"Yes," said Erroll, "You blame your Dad for getting himself shot."

Morgan shook his head at the thought but the emotion was there. He didn't like to admit it but there was anger towards his father, "It's so irrational, it wasn't his fault."

"No it wasn't Derek. As an adult we can rationalise it but as a child you couldn't say it…You couldn't say that to your grieving Mom or sister, you didn't want to talk to the school counsellor about your very dark feelings. But it's all right now, you can bring it all out into the light and you can understand with the experience of an adult, so don't be so hard on yourself. All of this happened to you at an age when you needed to identify with your Dad. It's understandable that you felt let down by him …by getting shot you lost your role model, the man you adored and wanted to be like."

Derek Morgan sat quietly listening to the calm deep voice of the Negro who at first he had seen as the enemy and now he was beginning to appreciate just how much he understood about him. He had spent 26 years of his life trying to hide these inner feelings only this man had gone straight to the heart of them. However, Erroll was not an avenging angel, there was only compassion for his plight and Morgan wasn't sure he deserved that.

"So you got involved with the neighbourhood gangs and after some minor trouble of vandalism, which would have been pretty usual for your area, you got into a serious fight that got you a juvenile appearance before the courts…." Hart said but there was no censure in his voice, it was all so matter of fact, as if he had heard such tales before.

"You don't sound too impressed by my record?"

"No you're rather ordinary," Erroll replied and then looked into Morgan's troubled face, "I've heard far worse but then you came from a basically good family so at 14, when you could begin to jump into the bigger cesspool of juvenile delinquency, you were noticed by Carl Buford. Did you know any other boys at the Upward Youth Centre?"

"Yeah…a couple who had dropped out of gang life since I'd got involved, they were a year older than me. I got playing in the park with them and we just continued on the way home and Buford saw us. They called to him and he came over and asked my name and said if I wanted to learn how to play properly to go along to the centre, but I couldn't be a gang member as well…it was the only condition.

He was known amongst the gangs as the guy who wouldn't be intimidated by them. There had been attempts to burn the building down and graffiti had been sprayed all over the walls. I remember being part of one raid on the place to try and get inside but it was like a fortress and we failed to break the security locks. Then we all ran off when the look out called across to say a patrol car was coming.

Anyway, I said I'd think about it and did for a couple of days and Darren…one the boys who I'd been with, asked me again in the school corridor but another gang member heard him and they crowded round me in the playground. I didn't like being intimidated by them, it reminded me of feeling weak when my Dad got killed. I was on my own and I suddenly saw clearly how they needed to be in a group. I thought I'd go just to prove to myself that I wasn't scared of them, that I could still think for myself. It was like I wasn't ever going to let them scare me…A group of teachers came and broke up the crowd that was forming and I was sent to the principal who wanted to know what it was about. So I told him the truth…about Buford. He listened and said that the guy had guts and he was good at bringing on talent so if I'd been offered a place at his centre to seriously think about it…All the boys who had been there in the past had done good."

"He was really respected then," said Erroll, pleased that Morgan was sharing his memories.

"Something of a local hero but I didn't realise that until I started to go there because you're very blind as a gang member, you only see what the gang wants to be seen!"

"Of course that's the power of the gang, but you kept going. Did it cause any problems for you with the gangs?" probed Erroll.

"In the early days some of the boys would try to push me, crowd me in the corridors…I got a few punches but the more they did that, the more I was determined to keep going to the centre. The teachers noticed that I was more focused on my schoolwork again. It all tied in with the discipline of the training and the self-respect Buford gave us for turning up and standing out from the crowd. I really do have a lot to thank that guy for because I think he got me to his centre at just the right time and I began to turn things around. Better grades meant the teachers were pleased, that meant my Mom was happy, and to top it all I was getting real results at football. Buford said I had a natural talent and if I had the discipline to keep training then things could look good for a scholarship."

"So you became the star player and that brought extra attention," said Erroll.

Morgan instantly stiffened; he really didn't want to explore that part of his life.

"Derek you have opened up the memories now, stop trying to push them back inside the box. The fact is you owe a lot to Buford, that was the good side but then there was also this very dark and forbidden life that you were reluctantly caught in."

"Can we leave it for today?" he asked hopefully.

"If I do that then you will go home and worry about it for another night, like you did last night. Stop being scared to look at those memories in the light…If you keep them hidden then Buford has won."

"No he hasn't…I got James to talk and testify against him and then others came forward…" Derek countered quickly in his defence.

"Yes, but he has won because you are scared to admit to me privately, in this counselling session, what happened. Hotch, Gideon, Reid have probably all worked it out because of what Barfield told the court. They are professionals and they have respected your privacy, but they will have come to their own conclusions about the effect the abuse has had on your present behaviour...particularly Gideon and Reid because they are first rate psychologists. Reid is very discrete and probably had thought out some of your behavioural patterns long before the Buford case surfaced. Gideon likewise, but neither would have broached the subject unless you chose to."

"What?" said Morgan with some surprised.

"Derek, your behaviour is indicative of early abuse…It's amazing how you profilers never really turn your skills in on yourselves. We psychs are encouraged to look at our own backgrounds and accept that it has all had some part to play in who we are today. Reid respected your right to privacy after the Buford case, but Gideon noticed that he also made a point of sitting near you at meal times and on the plane, immediately after the case, as a silent gesture of support. Reid didn't think any less of you, and I'm sure the women on the team all wanted to say it was all right too. The women probably thought it best to observe from afar knowing how fragile our male egos are when it comes to our masculinity and watched for how the men handled it."

"You think Reid worked it out?" Morgan had never dared to think too deeply about how his colleagues thought about the case because he didn't want them to see him as weak.

"I've never asked him but, if you ever get the courage to ask, he'd tell you the truth and what exactly it was that pointed him in that direction. Reid is an adult and he had to grow up fast with his background, but he doesn't have the need to be seen to be ultra masculine…Reid knows himself and probably had more confidence than you with his sexuality because of all that reading he did. But he also was placed in a year group who were 6 years older, so he observed the raging hormones of the teenagers around him and how they struggled with relationships. Poor guy was at university when the rampaging hormones hit him, but he was too young for the attractive women on his courses who only saw him as a little swot. I suspect things got better for him when he started on his second doctorate because at least then he was nearer in age to the new students. He had all the experience of that observation of student behaviour that he had witnessed and probably learnt by their mistakes…"

"I've never thought about it, I always thought he was inexperienced with women…"

"Reid…I think he's discrete Derek, and belongs to the 'gentlemen don't tell brigade'. I think it's a case of never underestimate the quiet one. But we are digressing and not tackling your attempted evasion to face the Buford demons," Erroll pressed.

"Well you say you have me all worked out so we'll just leave it…"

"No, that's not how this works. I told you that you have to face those demons or they will control your life forever…Buford is doing that this very minute Derek. You are not going to say anything shocking to me. I'll tell you that the most distressing cases for me over the years were the male rape of soldiers because they think themselves so macho in their uniforms and that rape only happens to women. In our society, men are supposed to be able to defend themselves but with men they are too scared to tell and to get medical help. Male rape happens every day and it goes unreported because society sees it as a female problem. Now with you… you don't want to look deeply at your own case because there appears to be an element of complicity!"

"Leave it! I don't want to go there today," Morgan repeated, trying to keep his voice calm but there was an element of anger creeping into it at Erroll's persistence.

"No Derek…the truth is you haven't forgiven yourself for letting Buford sexually abuse you because he had the position of power and thought he was safe. Meanwhile, you wanted that scholarship so badly you let him because it was your ticket out of poverty."

"You bet it was! I didn't have any cushy middle class upbringing…it wasn't something I asked for. It happened and I didn't know how to get out of it, I wanted it to stop but if I'd said no then he could have ruined my scholarship chances…I was already in too deep…He got my juvenile record expunged… I owed him…"

"So you think of the sexual abuse as payment?" Erroll snapped back, deliberately provoking Morgan to expose his true feelings about himself.

Morgan stared at him, his temper was too near the surface and he couldn't stop the reply, "It was the only way I could explain it to myself!"

"Of course it was; Buford had probably spent a couple of years carefully grooming you. He started mentoring you, showing an interest in your schoolwork. Did you notice that he always chose fatherless boys for the special mentoring? They were the most vulnerable and they needed a male figure in their lives. If you were the star player, even better as that meant you practised more and your family encouraged it all. Your family was proud of you because you were showing potential and of course a full scholarship was beyond your family's wildest dreams. There was also the dream of potential earnings if you broke into the sport. I don't think any poor family would have turned away from those prospects…to escape to a better area and an education; the pressure was on you to succeed…You didn't think you would be believed did you?"

"Of course I didn't, he was the pillar of the neighbourhood. I was the talented kid with the expunged juvenile record…who would believe me? It all came out of the blue…I just didn't see it coming. My Mom was so relieved that my record had been expunged because it would all help me to get a better job. Then Buford started saying that he thought I had a chance of a sports scholarship and if I kept out of trouble, and continued to work hard at school, then it would all help to tip things in my favour. I began to get my photo in the local paper because of my games and the dream looked like it had a real chance of happening. There I was… I was 16 and things were finally looking up and I so wanted that scholarship.

Buford had a cabin in Wisconsin and he asked my Mom if I could go with him there because I'd been working so hard in school and in training, it would be a kind of reward. I'd never had a holiday, not even when Dad was alive, so it really sounded special and it was in a lovely spot in the forest. We got there late and he just showed me my room and made a quick meal the first night. Next day, we went fishing and caught lunch and talked. We talked at the centre but this was real special because it was away from the other boys and he was treating me like I was an adult. It was good, we went walking in the afternoon and when he brushed up against me on a steep path, I didn't think anything of it…it seemed like an accident. Later, out came the beers, and then the night-cap… it was just between us men…I felt real special because my Mom wouldn't let me drink alcohol and she didn't buy any for herself. So I slept in the next morning but it seemed good, more fishing and talking and then some wine with the fish we'd cooked. I'd never had wine before, I really felt so grown up. Then he came up with the suggestion of going for a swim...skinny-dipping. Hell Erroll, I'd never done that before. He took his clothes off like he was use to it but I just didn't know what to do… it was a hot summer's day and I thought…perhaps this is what men do. I had trusted him so far and he was treating me like a man and giving me beer and wine…But I was way out of my depth …He touched me in the water and I froze…I didn't know what to do…I just blanked it all out…."

"So you blanked out for two years of your life whenever this guy abused you."

"That sums it up really. I knew it was wrong but who could I turn too? I wasn't a little kid, I was 16 and I wondered if in any way I'd given him the wrong signals. I should have said no but there was so much at stake for me. I was so confused about things, you know that homosexuality isn't accepted amongst us Black Americans...we like to be seen as all man and virile…"

"So when you got home from that trip you went and had your first sexual experience with a girl, just to prove to yourself that you were really a man," stated Erroll in a calm voice that contained no hint of censure.

"Yeah, I really had too, I was so confused about everything and I just picked up this girl who was the same age…She was a bit of a football groupie…so she was pretty easy to impress. Her Mom was out working so we did it on her bedroom floor. I tried not to hurt her but it was my first time and I had no idea really and it was all over very quickly. I did use a condom and she was impressed with my thoughtfulness," Morgan shook his head sadly at the memory, " I guess she was as innocent as I was, she didn't complain but then she seemed to like the attention of being with the star player on the local team. I used Elise a few more times after that, always after Buford had taken his 'payment'. That's how I thought of it…his payment for getting me this far but I hated it and I hated him every time he touched me but I needed that scholarship…it was blind ambition," Morgan bitterly admitted.

"Did he abuse you at the centre?"

"No, there were always other boys around or I made sure I was never alone, but when he was having his weekend fishing trips…I really didn't dare say no because he held the key to the prize. I feel so ashamed of myself because I should have said something, with my job I now know that people like Buford don't just stop grooming and abusing. For his trial, there were only 2 other adults who stood up to be counted but they were married with kids…You know like they could say 'Look at me, he did this to me but I'm not gay, I'm in a stable marriage with my own family.' But what I would like to know is how many were there before and after me because I don't think I was the first. When I think back over it, Buford was a calculating predator and the attitudes in my own culture in a way protected him."

"Yes he was a predator and, like you say, had probably been abusing vulnerable teenagers for some years before you came on the scene. But his behaviour was a betrayal of the trust you had in him and the damage he inflicted is still having an effect on your behaviour Derek, and it's that we should look at and confront. If you can break that destructive behaviour then you will have truly defeated Carl Buford," Erroll said firmly.

Derek Morgan felt desperately tired, he couldn't believe that he had confided about the darkest of his experiences. As an adult, he still felt disgusted with himself that he had not reported Buford once he had got away and he let him escape through the statute of limitations. While away at college, he had pushed all the memories as far down as they would go and lived the life of the successful sports jock. Remembering that first year now it seemed like he had a different woman every night. He quickly got a reputation with the ladies and he refined his technique so he hoped the women did enjoy the attention he gave them, but he wouldn't settle to one partner. Furthermore, for Morgan it was essential for his self-image to be seen as 100 per cent heterosexual and that also meant having the physical physique to go with it. He was in the gym every day, practising his football and womanising in the evening; somehow he also managed to attend lectures and write essays.

"Come on," Erroll suddenly said, "I've booked a table at a quiet restaurant, it will do you good to get out of this room for a few hours."

Morgan was not expecting this turn of events but as they sat talking about the decline of good crime writing and the humour of James Thurber, he was grateful for the experienced psychologist he was with. Morgan liked the man, he was extremely well read and they discovered that they also shared a love of classical jazz. Erroll told him about the old record collection his father had bequeathed to him and the warm memories those records evoked of their shared interest whenever he played them.

Over two hours later, they returned to room 9 and the smell of a new batch of freshly made coffee greeted them.

"That will be Judy…I swear she's psychic…always knows when I'm on the way and never fails with the coffee pot."

The two men took up their former places on the couches, each happily holding mugs of coffee.

"Now Derek, we are not going to waste the emotional journey we travelled this morning. I wasn't just being inquisitive for the sake of it. You have now talked about that time…how do you feel at the moment?"

Morgan leaned back in the seat and sipped the coffee thoughtfully. It was strange but he felt more relaxed within himself at some deeper level that he had not explored before.

"I didn't realise just how all those memories were weighing down on me…They are still there but I've never confronted those feelings I had about my Dad's death…How I felt deserted by him when I needed him the most. I had always just made his death the excuse for my unruly teenage years, but it was a bit more complicated than that and then there was Buford…I still feel guilty that I let myself be a victim."

"You couldn't have seen it coming. Buford was a pillar of the local community; all the families trusted him with their boys. Then there's the Black community itself which is uneasy about homosexuals in their midst. But there are such men are in every society and just because you are a homosexual doesn't make you a paedophile. But that's the old fears resurfacing about sexuality where deviance from the accepted heterosexual line is not tolerated.

Buford was very clever; he took his time to groom and gained the trust of his targets, and not just the boy but his family aswell. That is very predatory and as you said, who would believe any complaints against such a well-respected citizen. You need to forgive yourself now, in the end you managed to bring Buford down so don't be too hard on yourself. Like you said, you were probably not the first teenager he had used and they had not spoken out. You were worried about your own sexual identity after he had abused you and this would have been the same amongst the other boys too. The effect of his abuse has been to make you afraid of friendship with either sex, but your womanising, to prove your sexual orientation to yourself and the rest of the society, has got to stop. You are still behaving like a sports jock, its about time you started acting your age and that means looking more closely at your behavioural patterns outside work," said Erroll who was not going to soften this. Morgan was ready to take the criticism because the disciplinary board had shaken his self-confidence. Erroll Hart knew that this was the best time to try and help this man come to terms with his emotions and take a real interest in life outside work.

Morgan sat listening to the lecture; the past 72 hours had turned his world upside down. His supreme confidence had taken several substantial hits and he needed to get back in touch with reality and fast before he totally ruined his career with the FBI.

"How do I say sorry to Reid?" he suddenly asked and Erroll stopped what he was about to say and observed the agent opposite.

"How about the truth Derek, it usually works and sincerity will go a long way with Reid. Just say, ' I'm sorry, I was very worried about you and I just misjudged everything'. Reid doesn't hate you, I told you earlier that he had his own pressures and he's a very understanding man. He won't see it as a weakness, he does respect you as a team member Derek…just don't push yourself into his life and you may find that Reid allows you to see a bit more of the off duty man.

That's the other problem isn't it, you don't really have any close friends outside of work because of your behaviour. Let's face it Derek, how many men are going to introduce their wife or girlfriend to a man with a womanising reputation like yours?"

Morgan sat quietly and thought about it deeply. This was the first time a man had sat down and told him some home truths which, when voiced, he had to admit that his behaviour was not very likeable.

Erroll was pleased; he was seriously listening to all that he had been trying to get across so far that day. However, the hardest part would be to get him to break his facile behaviour.

"Now I really enjoyed our lunch," Erroll said, "You revealed yourself to be very well read and have musical interests as well as the more obviously sporty ones. But do you ever go anywhere to meet like minded people?" the psych challenged.

Morgan felt embarrassed, work took up a lot of his time and free time was spent out dancing, the occasional film, having a drink in a bar…and if invited to a party…

"No, I don't," he reluctantly admitted.

"Well, what we psychs like to do is give our patients some projects to help them change their behavioural patterns. Now what I want you to do is write down all your interests that excludes drinking, partying and dancing…you get the idea?" Erroll said with a twinkle in his eyes, "Then use the internet to see if you can find out any societies connected with those interests. Look for some local events that might interest you and try and go to a few and meet some real people who like the same things and you may get hooked into something you would have never considered. You know I had one guy who liked old photographs and had books of various collections but he had never made the effort to go to any exhibitions. I persuaded him to go to an exhibition of Dorothea Lange's work. At his next appointment he told me he was helping with a local history project, that involved recording peoples' memories of the l930's, all because of the people he had met at that one event.

I know your work makes attending things regularly difficult but you could start by making a note of open lectures and author's doing talks or readings…The object is to try and break the pattern of just going to a bar or partying! I want to see you tomorrow at 10 o'clock and you can show me what your searches have found and what looks interesting to you," the psych said seriously.

Part of Morgan felt like he was back at school with a project to research, but the other part of him knew that he needed this push to get him out of his well trodden path of superficial dalliance.

"Look at yourself Derek, you regularly work out and you're proud of your physique but you know that can attract one type of woman and put off another," Erroll suddenly began speaking again.

Morgan looked up at the words as if stung, he was proud of his looks.

"Derek some women like the macho man because they feel protected but there are others who see you as a threat. It might be because they associate your macho looks with being intimidated by such physically powerful men. Others might wonder what's wrong with your ego that you have to pump iron at every opportunity and dismiss you thinking you're all brawn and no brains. Then you've got to seriously think about the sort of woman who you would feel proud to introduce to your Mom and sisters and remember that she has to get through a background search. You've never had such a woman in your life before, those searches are necessary to protect you from relationships that could damage your career."

"But I just thought they were a mere formality?" Morgan said and wondered if he knew anyone who had been warned off a woman and couldn't think of anyone over the years.

"Usually, but sometimes the searches can uncover some dark secrets and then you would be told and, if appropriate, advised to put an end to a relationship or think of less sensitive employment. The real problem is if you had a case going to court and the media got hold of some juicy information that could be blown up all out of proportion and jeopardise the case. It could affect your credibility and the Bureau doesn't like to be embarrassed by its agents which is why it checks out all employees and their future long term partners aswell. Reid's got his lady to fill in the forms recently and they have come back fine so he may feel more relaxed about mentioning her in future. What it really means Derek, is that you need to turn your profiling skills on your own life and make it work for you. Think seriously about this…you need a stable relationship at your age and it would show a certain amount of maturity and stability, which in turn, would only do good for your future career with the FBI."

Derek Morgan sat quietly and for the first time began to realise what his life style really signalled to his employers. He liked to see himself as the confident and experienced agent, but the signals he had been sending out could also point to a womanising and over-confident male with a shallow off duty life. Morgan was finally admitting to himself that he had been behaving like a guy in his early 20's rather than one who had reached his mid 30's with no history of a stable relationship.

"Derek use your profiling skills and think about the sort of woman a man of your age, and in your position, wants to be seen with. You are not going to find them in the bars and dance venues you've been frequenting all these years…so start thinking about the man who is hidden beneath the flirting. The man I had lunch with today was intelligent and there are a lot of intelligent professional woman out there who want more than a one night stand. You understand now what I want you to do? You start mixing with a different circle and you will begin to discover you can trust your instincts over friendships. You need to use your profiling skills to help you again…you will know when somebody is being genuine and those who are just trying to impress. In this way you will begin to understand more about friendship and appreciate it more than your previous superficial interaction with the world."

Morgan nodded and felt a bit stupid that he had never really applied himself to the long-term effects of his life style and what Buford had done. He was determined to carry out Erroll's suggestions when he got home and see if they got him anywhere over the next few months.

"Go on, get out of here, I'll see you tomorrow with the fruits of your internet searches," Erroll said and Morgan found himself heading home with a lot to think about, but strangely he also felt a day with the psych had left him feeling hopeful about the future.

It was a few minutes after 6'oclock when Spencer Reid entered his apartment and was greeted by the smell of his favourite vegetable lasagne. He put his shoulder bag down and hung his jacket up in the vestibule closet before going into the kitchen.

"Hi there! Have a good day?" Jo's voice asked cheerfully from the table.

Spencer turned to look at her seated at the circular table typing furiously away on her laptop. She often typed up her work in the evenings. There was a lot more to interior design than just the grand ideas and detailed drawings and he knew that she was involved on the very important costing out of a project. She would track down suppliers, compare costs, and factor in labour requirements along with the time estimated for completion. Jeff had told him recently, that he had been getting her more involved with the financial side of running the business now she seemed to have recovered from her own PTSD and was obviously happy again. Spencer thought that it was all a good idea as it also meant that she was busy and she didn't have the time to brood on the fact that he was not around as often as some men…

"Yeah fine, a good day…Is that Earl Grey?" he asked hopefully.

"Mmm although it may be a bit stewed, I made it about 15 minutes ago now…"

"Oh, I'll give it a try," he replied and reached for his berry red mug. He smiled to himself at the action, that mug was 'his', he loved the colour and automatically used it. Jo seemed to prefer the deep green one, 'the colour of holly leaves,' Spencer thought absently as he poured out the strong aromatic tea. It was good to be home as he wandered into the large living room so as not to distract Jo from her work. He was met by a display of new flowers in the modern tall glass vase. Jo had bought a selection of red, yellow and white dahlias and they added a burst of colour to the walnut dining table.

Spencer went over to the couch and sank down into its familiar comfort, he loved Jo but this place was his home and he was glad that Jo understood its significance. She had added a few of her own things, mostly plants in the bathroom and kitchen that made his feeble attempts, to add living vegetation, shrink into insignificance with the more exotic foliage she had transferred from her own apartment. They all complimented and actually completed the 'homely' look he was trying to achieve. He had only allowed her one bear from her large collection and Paddington was in the bedroom along with the Escher print that he had coveted and that now hung on the Mediterranean blue wall over the bed. But it was the photographs that she had dotted around that made this apartment seem like their home. Spencer's mother had destroyed family photographs after his Dad had left and he treasured the ones that his father's former colleagues had sent over the past few years, but he kept them in a box in the closet because he didn't want them faded by the sun.

He noticed how Jo had been very sensitive to his lack of family photographs and had only displayed those that had been taken since they had known each other. Spencer's favourite was a group picture taken in her parent's garden. The group consisted of Alan and Margaret, Craig, Melinda, Lydia, Ben, Jeff and his wife Marilyn, Jo and himself. Alan's friend, George, had been staying for a few days and just captured the happy moment. Spencer looked very thin in the picture and he remembered that he had only known Jo for 3 weeks, but for him it contained the members of what he now considered his family. They all knew about his mother and he had asked her doctors about the best time to tell her, if ever, about his relationship with Jo. The only time he had previously mentioned a girlfriend, Diana Reid had become very distressed and he vowed he would keep that side of his life secret. It was difficult because he naturally wanted to share his happiness with the only surviving member of his family but it was not a normal situation. Her doctors had suggested the next time he visited that perhaps Jo could go along too and then play it be ear as to how receptive she was that day. It was important to Spencer that Dr. and Mrs. Bishop also met Jo. They had already invited them to stay next time they were in the area. It was strange but he didn't have a picture of the couple who were really like foster parents to him, he would definitely have to get a photo of them next time…"

"Spencer!" Jo's voice brought him back to the present, "Are you all right, I'd called you to say suppers on the table…" she asked with a note of concern in her voice as she stood before him.

He looked up and beamed one of his smiles, "Sorry, I was miles away. Next time I go to Las Vegas, I must get a photo of the Bishops'" he replied.

"That's a lovely idea, I'm looking forward to meeting them. They sound really nice people to have kept in touch with you all these years…"

Spencer reached for her scarred left hand and she tugged him off the couch, "Come on, I'm starving…" she laughed, relieved that the intensity of his withdrawal was nothing serious. She still worried about him although she knew that the psych department was being very supportive, but he had not had the best return to the BAU and since last Friday things had escalated.

"I've been thinking about us visiting your Mom," Jo said, as they sat down at the kitchen table, "I thought that if you took your lute to play to her then you could introduce me as someone who sings with you and it would be like a little concert…" Jo's voice trailed off exposing her uncertainty.

Spencer smiled at her thoughtfulness, "That's a nice idea, I'll ring Bennington tomorrow and see if they think it would be all right."

"Perhaps we could get a photo of your Mom during the visit as well," Jo added. She knew that Spencer's childhood had been difficult but Diana was still his Mom and perhaps one day his children might ask what she looked like. Jo suddenly stopped her thoughts running away down a path that they had not talked seriously about.

"You want a photo of my Mom?" asked Spencer a little unsure of Jo's thinking in this.

"Why not? We have my family photos scattered about it seems odd that your family isn't represented, and if we have the Bishops as well, then it just makes it more balanced…" she finished with a flourish.

Spencer chewed his mouthful of lasagne thoughtfully. It was difficult not having had the happy upbringing that Jo had obviously experienced but he thought that it was the kind of thing the Bishops would have done. Then he remembered that the Bishops did have photographs of him amongst their own children and felt humbled again by the emotional stability that family had extended to him while at the university.

"Yeah, that's a really nice idea Jo, have you anything planned for this coming weekend? The BAU is stood down at the moment and we could try and get a flight to Vegas on Friday around 5'oclock because the training course finishes at 3:30."

"No, nothing in particular. I'll make reservations tomorrow if you like?"

"Yeah…lets do that and make the most of the unexpected free weekend..."

Derek Morgan sat on his designer ultra modern black leather couch. There were two low-backed matching chairs to complete the suite along with a shiny steel legged and clear glass topped rectangular coffee table in the middle of the arrangement. Morgan's living room was a spacious square and very masculine. There were no drapes anywhere in Morgan's home. In this living room there were royal blue Venetian blinds that gave the only real colour while the rest consisted of white walls with trendy steel shelving for his music, DVDs and books. His plasma television was mounted on the wall opposite the couch and the remaining wall space contained two large black and white photographs in thin steel frames. One of these photographs was the Brooklyn bridge and another the interior of the Grand Central Station, showing the magnificent cathedral like structure of the ceiling. The wooden floor was a pale oak colour and there was no rug to soften the utilitarian feel of the room but it was functional when you shared your home with a dog. There were no plants to add a sense of greenery or to bring the garden inside. Overall, Morgan's living space was modern, uncluttered, clean and tidy.

The only regular visitor Morgan had was Paula who kept an eye on his house and walked and fed Cluny when he was away. She lived two doors down and the small payment he gave her for her services helped to buy little extras for her three year old son, who had been born with severe hearing problems. Thomas loved to help his Mom walk Cluny and Morgan was happy to share his pet with the family, who struggled to pay for the special hearing aids along with the mortgage payments and general living expenses.

Morgan had spent three hours following up his project for Erroll. He felt foolish on reflection that he had never before consciously sat down and thought about what his life style was doing to him. He began to think about his work colleagues and how they did keep him at a distance from their private lives…He enjoyed talking to Emily about books and films but there was nothing deeply personal about the relationship. Morgan thought about his relationships since his college days and there were none that were actually deep. He had heard second hand about people he had studied, or worked, with getting married or if he bumped into them finding out about wives and children. He remembered when Hayley Hotchner had brought in her baby he had retorted that 'he was still practising' when someone had mentioned babies. Even his Mom was getting desperate for grandchildren as neither of his sisters seemed to be in relationships or showing any interest in having children at all.

Morgan further reflected about his flirtatious behaviour at work that had even caused Hotch to speak to him about on several occasions. Then there was his relationship with Garcia. They seemed to feed off one another but perhaps that would now stop because of the consequences of Monday. She had said she didn't want any contact with him, and he felt that he had better respect that, but he hoped Penelope was all right because he had played a part in her downfall.

He would have to apologise to Reid and he wondered just how much the genius had seen through his smokescreen of super masculinity. But above all, he hoped that Reid was happy with his lady and that their relationship would last. It also made him think that if Reid could find a stable relationship at his age then what the hell was he doing with his own life…he was 10 years older!

As Derek Morgan made his way to bed that evening, he was certain that his 'reality check' day with Erroll had been long over due and it was now up to him to do something about his life while he still had the chance. As he lay in bed his conscience went over the past few days. He concluded that Garcia needed a big apology too as he had misused her friendship and he thought about sending a bouquet of flowers as a peace offering. Then his mind then began to think about using his profiling skills to find a suitable girl friend. Usually he just made a beeline for the most attractive woman in the room, but if he was honest with himself, often this target was only interested in him because he looked good to be seen with together with the kudos of being an agent. It was all crudely based on pure physical attraction; he only met women, in their early 20s, who were just out for a good time and to see what they could catch from the FBI pool and the Marine personnel in the Quantico area. They were often office personnel who liked men with good physical looks. Everyone seemed to accept the transient nature of these evenings so no hearts got broken when nothing persisted after the one night of fun. However, Morgan had been doing this in the Quantico area for over 3 years now and he was not getting any younger but he noticed his fellow males were! It was sobering to think that if he was not careful he would become the ageing roué like Erroll predicted and Morgan's pride was not going to let that happen.

End of Chapter 24.


	25. Chapter 25

The In-Between Times: Chapter 25

**by Helena Fallon**

**Monday morning**

Spencer Reid decided that at that moment he actually felt contented as he sat in the aisle seat of the plane heading back towards Washington on the early morning flight from Las Vegas. Dr. and Mrs Bishop had both insisted on driving them to the airport and they left with promises of returning in the future when work permitted. Spencer knew that they had genuinely liked Jo and he had felt a satisfaction from deep within that it was important to him that this couple had approved of his partner. It was just good to feel accepted with his girlfriend in their home and the Bishops were thrilled that he had brought her on his short stay. The simple fact was that the genius was suddenly enjoying showing how normal he was by having a stable girlfriend to share his life. Normality was not always attainable in his life especially with his work that involved the extremes of crimes. He turned his thoughts away from thinking about work and remembered how they had entertained the Bishops' with Dowland on Saturday evening. Dr. Bishop had filmed some of it to show Peter who loved to hear him play. For Spencer the Bishop family had given him a taste of a normal family life while studying at the university and he was ever grateful for their generosity. The experience had remained a model of what a family should be like because Spencer's own had been very unusual.

Jo snuggled a little closer as she dozed; they both had to go straight to work when they got to Washington. Jo could get the metro to the Washington office and Spencer had left his car at the airport so he had the extra drive to Quantico. He wasn't sure how heavy the traffic would be but the effort to go to Vegas for the weekend had been priceless for the unspoken pleasure there had been for all concerned…

Diana Reid had been in a good mood and very alert. It was wonderful that his mother recognised him and was thrilled at the thought of Spencer playing his lute for her and that he had bought a friend to sing. Diana was charm itself and very coherent. Jo was gentle and careful not to give away the true nature of their relationship and responded to Diana's intellectual conversation concerning the poetry of Dante. The other residents enjoyed the little concert they gave in the day room and the staff seemed to appear out of the woodwork aswell. The whole visit was a success, in fact the best that Spencer could remember. It was good to see his Mom actually happy for a change and Jo even got Dr. Smetner to take a few photos of the visit without causing Diana any alarm. When they made there way to the entrance afterwards, several of the staff came up and thanked them personally because they felt that it had been enjoyed by all those in the day room and they hoped they would come again with the lute. Diana Reid's personal Doctor was delighted with Diana's response to the visit and said that it had been a pleasure to meet Jo and thought that she handled herself well and hoped she would come again. Jo had smiled warmly at Dr. Hendley and said that she knew things were difficult with Diana but she was Spencer's partner and she didn't want to ignore the situation that was part of Spencer's life.

Spencer stared out at the beautiful sunrise and hoped that it would continue to be a wonderful day. He treasured the woman who was beside him and was amazed that the thought of visiting his schizophrenic mother had not frightened her, but it was far more than that, she had actually suggested the idea of the lute. He had never thought of doing that before and he was grateful for her insight and sensitivity to the situation. The success of the weekend had made Spencer feel far more confident about mentioning his relationship with Jo more openly around Quantico. Suddenly the passengers were warned of being 5 minutes away from landing and Spencer gently shook Jo awake.

"Come on sleepy, soon be landing…" he whispered to her.

"Mmm…I was enjoying the doze, but at least I got all that costing for the Old Armoury project finished on Friday before I left…I wonder what Uncle Jeff thought of it," she said yawning a little and started a sympathetic response in Reid.

**Quantico, a little later**

Dr. Reid was helping with routine annual psych evaluations for part of the week and this time was based at Quantico. The team was careful not to give him people who worked in his division, that fell under Erin Strauss, but he enjoyed this work and he relaxed into the routine. As he walked the corridors of the Mental Health Services department he felt at home, unlike the agents who normally reluctantly came here once a year if they were lucky. He had been assigned Room 16 on level 3 and he enjoyed the prospect of having this as his personal working space for the next three days.

"Morning Arthur," Max said to his senior psych, who had just emerged from the elevator.

"Arthur beamed, "Morning, I've just seen Spencer Reid…He had a good visit to see his mother at the weekend."

Max nodded and smiled; he was very pleased with how Reid's training was progressing and how steady he seemed despite the unexpected problems of his return.

"Did he take Jo?"

"Yes," Arthur said with a smile, "He took his lute and they gave a little concert for his Mom apparently…it was a very happy visit all round."

"Good," replied Max quietly and walked with Arthur to his room just generally chatting about how the department seemed to be running smoothly at the moment.

Max continued on to his own room, further down the corridor, and could see that Don was already waiting for him and had helped himself to coffee.

"Sorry, Don," he said closing the door, "I was talking to Arnie and we went over last weeks group training together."

Don raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"Reid was very good, how's Gideon?" Max replied to the unasked question, as he went to get himself some coffee before going to his desk.

"He went home on Friday night and said that he was hoping to see his son for a couple of days and then wanted to come back to help with the profiling requests from Wednesday."

"How do you feel about that?" probed Max.

"He'll probably be all right but we have got to keep an eye on him from now on. He feels he let down Reid and wants to see him to apologise…"

"Does Gideon accept Reid taking over the group dynamics monitoring as part of his professional training?" Max asked respecting Don's judgement in this matter.

"Yes, I think watching Reid's statement has made him see Reid as far more mature than they had been giving him credit for."

Max nodded, "It's ironic but Reid, despite the Hankel case, is a lot steadier than he was because he is now far more aware of his capabilities and knowing he survived that ordeal has made him stop coasting."

"This relationship with Jo is very serious isn't it?" Don probed.

"Yes, but he told me that he'd known her brother for some time so I think he felt comfortable when he did finally meet her. But then she had also experienced post-trauma so there was a lot to help the relationship gel together very quickly. It's a good family and Spencer isn't going to waste time dithering with self doubt…Facing your own death is wonderful at clearing away all the excuses…I don't think he's going to throw away this second opportunity at life."

"He's come back different and things didn't go how we imagined…What about the rest of the team?" Don asked hoping that he would get the opportunity to speak to Spencer himself that week.

"Don…They have had a reality check and the fallout from Gideon's actions is still being felt. Garcia and Morgan are still suspended but Prentiss is back, if Gideon returns too this week then it will begin to settle down again. But I want Reid to have his time here with the evaluations because it will be a reminder to them all that he has a foot in both camps…just like Gideon." Max quietly but firmly stated.

"He's too young to take over from Gideon at the moment," Don replied.

"Of course he is, but his training had been neglected and see how he has flourished once we started in a systematic way to prepare him to be a senior psych." countered Max.

"It puts a lot of strain on relationships…he may decide to leave the BAU?" Don warned.

"Then that is his choice, but I think he has profiled Jo and believes that she can cope with the work. They are a very close family but I think Spencer Reid will create his own family unit sooner than people think. He and Jo had both felt they would not survive so now they have each other I think it will be the next step because of the experiences they have had." Max confidently stated.

"You going to take a bet on that?" asked Don with twinkling blue eyes.

"Oh, I told him at the Clinic he was to bring someone to one of my Christmas evenings…It will Jo and Christmas is a very romantic season…I think an engagement is on the cards."

Don shook his head, "Who would have thought you were such a romantic Max," Don said laughing, "Just wait until I tell Arthur this one!"

"So what do you think?" Max challenged his colleague.

"Next Spring, about a year after Hankel, but just an engagement."

There was a knock on the door and Arthur appeared and both men burst into laughter.

"Can I join in the joke?" Arthur asked as he handed a file to Max, "That's the report on O'Neal."

"Thanks…We are predicting the future of Reid's relationship," Max said, "I think he will get engaged at Christmas and Don thinks next Spring…Don was going to ask for your expert opinion."

"Ah!" Arthur's round face lit up, "In my expert opinion, based on my hours of talking to the said agent…" Don and Max looked at each other…

"And we didn't?" Max interjected.

"Well, I've known him the longest," Arthur justified, "As I was saying, in my expert opinion…I think he will be married before the year is out!" he ended with a flourish.

"Fifty dollars in from each of us, the nearest claims it for his charity," stated Max.

"Done!" said Arthur and Don together.

"Married?" said Don to Arthur, "I thought Max was the romantic…"

"Now we Jews…we know about match making and there is that certain air about a man who has met the partner he wants…" replied Arthur confidently.

Max shook his head, "And I thought it was the women that we had to be careful of…" he muttered with laughter in his voice.

**The BAU, Wednesday, 6 p.m.**

Emily was about to go home after spending 5 hours solid on profiling requests, she felt very tired but at least this week was at the home base. The BAU staff had been more welcoming than she had expected on the Monday. Barry had led the way with his cheerful, "Good morning" and her butterflies melted away. J.J. had also smiled as she passed through and no one had specifically alluded to the reasons for her previous absence. Hotchner had seemed busy himself with various meetings to attend outside the department but he did say he was glad to see her back because the requests were piling up. It seemed strange that Garcia was not in her lair but another computer tech, called Ben, was there and he seemed as quiet as a mouse compared with the exuberant, larger than life woman. Emily had settled down to work through the pile Barry had assigned to her, but she did ask him when Reid was coming back and was told that he was helping with psych evaluations and he'd probably return on Thursday.

Half way through this morning, Gideon had arrived and spent some time talking in Hotchner's office and then with Barry. He looked rested and more relaxed than she had seen him since before the Hankel case. He had chatted to her over a lunch time coffee but neither mentioned the circumstances for the stand down of the team. She had found herself telling him unexpectedly about riding with George and his youngest child, Sophie. Emily thought how charming Gideon seemed to be, not at all like the moody individual that she had seen in New Orleans and then suddenly he had said…

"I'm sorry, Emily, I really owe you an apology because I was not handling Reid's return properly…I totally misread how he expected me to support him."

Emily had found herself captured by the older man's deep eyes that shone with a sincerity that she knew was genuine and her heart opened to the man before her. Gideon had such a reputation that people tended to think that he was invincible but he was all too human and Emily had witnessed that with the aftermath of the Hankel case.

"I think we were all struggling to adjust to the Reid who returned," she admitted softly, "I think we wanted him to come back and be the same geeky genius but we didn't want to think about what the ordeal had really done to him."

"No…none of us wanted to face that. Reid is still the genius who is innately good but he has grown up and knows himself a lot more now. I think it will take us sometime to truly appreciate how much he has changed but I do think it's for the better," he confided and gave he a smile that was sad and haunting. Then suddenly Gideon had enigmatically turned away from her and returned to his office to tackle his own pile of requests…

She picked up her purse and checked her coat pocket for her keys. Emily was about to head for the door when she heard her name being softly spoken behind her and turned round to face the voice…

"Sorry, Emily…Are you off home?" the gentle voice said and she found herself looking into the enormous soft brown eyes of Spencer Reid. He looked as if he was homeward bound too with his grey wool jacket over the maroon vest and a petrol blue shirt, he looked very smart even if his hair was too long by FBI standards. These were clothes he rarely wore for the BAU and they made him look like an academic, even the tie was expensive in a maroon silk with a tiny navy motif. She now realised that his clothes had definitely changed since he'd been back. They had been so busy with adjusting to his physical appearance since his return that his actual style of dress had been pushed into the background. However, the shirts were different, he was wearing more darkly coloured shirts that really suited his colouring and more professional image.

She felt momentarily flustered by his sudden appearance and her wandering thoughts about his dress. Emily was also acutely embarrassed about staking out his apartment and how it had all lead to bigger consequences.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly, aware that she seemed startled and not her usual confident self.

Emily pulled herself together, "I'm sorry …I just wasn't expecting you to be here, I mean you've been with the psych department and …"

He smiled and there was the gentleness that she remembered from before Hankel, "I've been helping with some basic psych evaluations but I'm back at my desk here tomorrow. I had hoped that I would see you before then to give you an apology," he said simply and Emily was a little confused.

"I think I'm the one who owes you an apology over what we did that night and…" she interjected.

But Spencer was smiling sadly and shook his head, "You acted out of kindness and concern and you were doing so on the Houston case aswell when I was extremely rude to you. I was very quick tempered partly with the post traumatic stress and I had driven nearly a hundred miles on 4 hours sleep and not helped by my host giving me three very generous brandies before bedtime…"

"Three very generous brandies?" she repeated incredulously because she thought it rare for Spencer to be seen drinking alcohol.

"Yes, Alan is my partner's father and she…Jo was away in Europe and her parents were feeding me that Sunday and Alan had me in his study talking…over his brandy!"

Emily smiled warmly at his admission and felt she had just been allowed a glimpse of the off duty Reid. "You were coping with coming back to the work without your girlfriend?" she asked as the realisation of what he had just said hit her.

"Jo had gone to a friend's wedding and had arranged to visit other friends and distant family as part of her holiday. It was all arranged before she met me so I didn't want to stop her from going…I thought I could cope but back in the field… at first it was not that easy. It got better but I still have flash backs and nightmares without warning even after all these months," he explained and thought how easy it had been to talk about Jo.

Emily nodded and was grateful for his honesty with her. It showed a level of openness that had not been there when he first returned.

"Anyway, I wanted to see you because I should have apologised before and then there was the New Orleans case. Well none of my return went as it should have done but its over now and we all have to pick up the pieces and try to come together again as a team. I did want to say to you that I do trust you out in the field and I apologise for being such a pain in the butt."

"You were not being supported properly, we all noticed and were at fault for not following procedure… Hotch told me that you deliberately brought things to a head to get help for Gideon," Emily quietly said.

Reid nodded, "It's been a difficult time for all of us but I think we all understand ourselves a lot better now. Gideon's back on an even keel again and I'm on the mend and Jo's not planning any long trips without me!" and his eyes twinkled at the mention of his partner's name.

Emily felt genuinely pleased for this man, "I'm so glad that you have some one, are we going to meet her at the Christmas get together?"

"Oh yeah…she passed the security procedure so she's official now and I don't fancy trying to explain her absence to the psych department or Hotch…."

Emily laughed and felt a deep tension within her dissipate, and Spencer Reid gave her one of his wonderful smiles that the team had missed for so long.

"Spence!" J.J.'s voice carried from the stairs, they turned and saw the beaming blond bounce down the steps to join them…

"They've finally let you out of the psych department then," she said, her eyes sparking with her happiness at seeing him.

"I think he's just been hiding down there to avoid all these requests we've been valiantly fighting our way through," Emily stated in a teasing voice.

"I'm back tomorrow, ladies…I've been working hard in the psych department too you know…" he replied in his defence.

Emily and J.J. looked at each other sceptically…

"Of course you have," the blond said.

"Is Gideon about?" he suddenly asked.

"He's in with Hotch…" Jareau answered and wondered how the two men would get on now. The rumours had been rife that Gideon had been forced to take some time out because the stress had been building up. Then the whole team had been stood down following the disciplinary hearings, but the good side had been this brief respite of regular hours.

"Right…I can't really wait but I'll leave a note on his desk," he said, already moving up the steps.

A few minutes later he re-appeared from Gideon's office and headed for the door.

"Goodnight ladies…" he called cheerfully as his long legs covered the distance quickly to the elevators.

"She's called Jo?" asked Jareau.

"Yeah, apparently he was with her parents when he got the call for Houston and had to drive a hundred miles with a hangover…that's why he was late … I'll tell you what he said on the way to the car park…"

An hour later Gideon went back to his room and found a neatly written note on his desk… 'Jo has choir this evening so if you want to come round (coffee/tea/home-made cookies) you are welcome, Spencer.'

He held the note in his hand and smiled at the invitation and the warmth of understanding that was unsaid. Don was right, Spencer Reid was a gentle and forgiving man, even towards his old mentor.

Two hours later Gideon was entering Reid's apartment, he had never been here before but he felt the warm welcome as soon as Reid opened the door with his beaming smile.

"Come on in, I'm glad you decided to come…Let me take your jacket…"

Gideon's eyes began to roam over the vestibule out of habit, even off duty he couldn't stop profiling when he went to a new place. Reid noticed but he didn't feel threatened by the act.

"Would you like some tea or coffee…I do drink a lot more tea these days when I'm home," he confessed, as he hung the jacket in the closet.

"Tea would be nice, do you have any Earl Grey?"

"No problem its one of my favourites…I'll get the water boiling," and turned into the kitchen. Gideon followed him and was immediately taken by the two large etchings on the bright yellow wall.

"This was the first room I painted…the art work is local and from the Torpedo Factory Art Centre…It was part of the project Arthur gave me to personalise my home…"

Gideon turned and smiled, "I bet your excuse had been, 'I never have the time…'"

"Yeah…" agreed Spencer as he reached for the spotted tea pot, "You can go and look around the apartment if you like while I make the tea and then we can be more comfortable in the living room…"

Gideon slipped out aware of the trust that was inherent in the freedom he had just been given. Don had told him about the project and how impressed Arthur had been with the transformation and Don had said he had some interesting artwork on the walls. He noticed how the stark clinical white of the bathroom had been tamed by the use of primary colours, on the blind and with the towels, while the plants added a more natural touch. In the large bedroom he appreciated the painting of St Marks by JEM and the Escher print over the bed. The blues of the room gave it a calm and warm feel; the plain oak floor complimented the various blues and the deep chestnut colour of the leather chair by the window. Gideon was not surprised to find bookcases but there were the little touches of a woman. He smiled at the Paddington Bear that was standing in a corner by one of the closet doors and the cushions arranged on the bed were of various designs and materials, but they all complimented the whole relaxing feel of the room.

He returned to the vestibule and noticed more bookcases and tucked away there was a pencil drawing mounted in an A4 frame but the actual drawing was much smaller in size. It was another JEM but, as he peered closely, he realised that it was not just 'Man with Lute' as the artist had written under the drawing but a fine study of Spencer playing the instrument.

Gideon walked into the last room and was met by the walnut dining table and a large modern vase full of tiger lilies; the vibrant orange flowers with their dark spots dominated the dark table and welcomed all who entered the room. He was then transfixed by the large canvas over the sideboard and realised it was another JEM. It was very dramatic and full of movement and then his eyes caught the large terrarium standing on the floor by the first window. Turning to look at the whole long room he was amazed at the size; it was the length of the apartment with three windows which Reid had used to define three distinct uses of the space.

The middle window had a desk with a computer and there were two more oak bookcases like he had seen in the bedroom and vestibule. Along the opposite long wall was extensive shelving holding even more books. On the opposite wall to the JEM painting, there were more books and music. There was a television but it was not a dominating wall mounted feature, like in so many homes these days, but it was on its own stand by the last window. Gideon mentally filed away all he was seeing into another deeper layer necessary for understanding the youngest agent. There was a table with a Go board and Gideon noticed that a game was being played but he did not know how to assess the state of play. Gideon's game for strategy was chess but he acknowledged that Go was an expression of another way of thinking and was just as difficult.

The drapes were drawn revealing their modern leaf design but the colours all blended beautifully and were consistent with the colours that Reid liked in his clothes, especially the greens and browns. The choice of walnut for its rich colour and wonderful natural grain patterns were so indicative of Reid; the furniture was all of a simple but solid design. The rich chestnut colour of the leather couch and recliner at the far end of the room further reflected the warmth of the man who had chosen it. This man did not look at a style magazine and chose the image of masculine modernity as supposedly represented by black leather and the cold touch of glass, steel and chrome. Spencer Reid had deliberately chosen the colours of natures living garden in the warm greens and different colours and textures of wood and natural patterns of their grains to add interest to this room. This was a warm and relaxing room just as the bedroom had been decorated to be calming. All the furniture and furnishings had been chosen with care, even the glass tabletop in the kitchen was given warmth by its sunburst design against a sunshine yellow wall. It was obvious to Gideon that Reid had put his heart and soul into his choices and he hoped that Spencer was proud of the overall effect because it was welcoming and reflected the diversity and sensitivity of the owner.

Spencer suddenly appeared with a black tray holding the tea things and a plate of cookies. He went and placed it on the walnut coffee table and turned back to where Gideon was still standing near the dining table at the other end of the room.

"That picture is called 'Northern Lights' and I'll admit it was expensive but I knew it would look just right on that wall. Greg and Phil came and mounted for me…Greg is an art dealer at the Torpedo Factory," he explained as he poured the tea into the green teacups. The distinctive smell of smoky rafters began to diffuse from the tea and Gideon felt himself relaxing into this living space. This was the home of a sensitive and intelligent man who was finally feeling at ease with himself.

"It's a very fine painting as is the one in the bedroom. I understand that JEMs are rising in value, even Erroll was boasting of the one in his room," Gideon remarked as he was genuinely interested in the art he had seen.

"Yes, I've seen Erroll's… it's an early one from the artist's time in New York, JEM studied art there."

"You obviously know the artist…it's a very intimate little portrait of you with the lute," Gideon said, as he came to join the younger man, and decided to sit on the recliner that also gave him a more extensive view of the room.

"Ah, you noticed…JEM is a very private person," he said carefully, he had not told Erroll who JEM was and he was sure that Gideon would work it out for himself.

"It's a beautiful apartment, Spencer and very spacious…"

Spencer smiled at the compliment and hoped that inviting Gideon here to his inner sanctum would reveal, more than words, how he had changed since the Hankel case.

"Help yourself to cookies…Jo's a very good cook. Yes, I was impressed with the space and I bought it originally because of all the books and music I have. One couple in the block have altered this room to make a separate bedroom for their baby son but its so spacious that the apartment is still big enough for them. Jo's apartment would fit into this room but she still has most of her things back at her parents' home."

"Did you enjoy carrying out Arthur's project?" Gideon asked as he began to sip the aromatic tea.

Spencer's face lit up and he grinned in a familiar youthful way, which made Gideon's heart melt at how young he could still look at times. Life had never been easy for the genius but he sensed contentment in this living space.

"I was manic Gideon! Truly manic!" he said shaking his head and laughing at the memory, "Arthur had taken me shopping for a trip out of the Clinic. I was supposed to be buying clothes but then I saw a sale…I 'm quite good at searching out a bargain but Arthur hadn't realised that I'd been forced to cope with shopping at an early age because my Mom couldn't do it." Spencer proceeded to tell his old mentor about the shopping trip. Very quickly Gideon was chuckling at his exploits…

"But then Arthur had to bring my purchases back here, it took him several trips back and forth to empty his trunk. He just piled up the packages and cans of paint in the vestibule…."

"Oh god…" Gideon laughed, "You've probably put him off suggesting such a project ever again!"

"Well it was all his fault, he even brought me his wife's old interior decorating magazines…"

The two men laughed together at the images the younger one had evoked…

"But then once home, I just was driven to complete the task. I decorated the kitchen wall before going out to shop on the next morning. In the afternoon, I went shopping for the kitchen table and chairs and the blinds for the kitchen and bathroom. Then the next day it was the bedroom and then this one…" said Spencer as he watched Gideon's face become serious…"Like I said, I was manic!"

"But all those books…" Gideon said, his arm indicating the expanse of shelving and the bookcases.

"Yes, I had to remove them and put them back! I had to cover the white walls so I had colour in every room except the vestibule, which doesn't have any natural light so I kept that white, but then I bought extra bookcases and covered the wall space anyway."

"It's a wonder you didn't collapse with exhaustion…" Gideon said with genuine concern.

"The foolishness of youth…But the only reason I'd never tackled this place before was because I hate to start a task and then have to keep leaving it…well you know what its like with the job. But it was worse…because once I'd painted, I then wanted to get rid of my odd bits of furniture and buy some new stuff…Arthur said I couldn't order on-line…you know to make me get out. However, I did go on-line to find what I wanted and to track down the nearest supplier…Again a rather manic period ensued but 'Goodwill' was happy to have what I didn't need and I got the bonsai tree, it's a ficus, and the terrarium at the local 'Goodwill'."

"And the mice?" added Gideon with laughter in his eyes.

Spencer grinned, "The farmer's market along with the cat."

Gideon nodded his head with understanding; the seriousness of his intellect was tempered with this gentle sense of fun. It felt good to have this contact again even if he had to make adjustments to the changes he was now seeing. Gideon was very aware of the trust that Reid had extended to him; this was the nearest anyone in the Bureau was going to get to the real Spencer Reid.

"Thanks for coming Gideon," Spencer said softly, the serious tone made the older man sit up alert, "I wanted you to see my home and all it reveals about me…I trust you with that. I hope you understand that I was trying to help you by making that statement and there is a beneficial side to my group dynamics training," Spencer stated simply and Gideon saw that his enormous sensitive eyes pleaded for the older psych's understanding.

Gideon realised that this young man was reaching across the invisible chasm that had opened between them. The older man felt guilty because as the team's senior psych he had failed this man and he owed Spencer Reid the apology.

"Spencer I'm the one who should be apologising, you were right to make that statement. This work can break you but you just don't necessarily see it coming…" Gideon admitted to his protégé.

"You still have so much to give the team, Gideon…it's why they want me to do the report on the group dynamics as my on going training…It's to take away some of the pressure from you."

"You're very capable of doing that and it's one less piece of admin for me to do. I'm beginning to feel my age," Gideon admitted ruefully, "Retirement is not far away and to be honest I will be ready for more regular hours and the chance to follow up other interests. But I still do owe you an apology; I didn't handle your return properly for the whole group. I thought because they had witnessed a lot of what Hankel did that they would not need a second pep talk like I did for J.J.'s return. I got it all wrong, I thought you wouldn't want me asking you the same questions that you had been asked for months…I'm sorry Spencer," confessed Gideon but he thought the words sounded totally inadequate.

Spencer nodded and the still sunken eyes bore into Gideon's, unafraid to show the emotion that they contained with this man. Gideon was amazed by the trust that he was extending to him despite the past few weeks. The older man marvelled at the wisdom that this young man had and his capacity for forgiveness.

"None of it was helped by the fact that the BAU had been working flat out and for most of that time was understaffed," replied Spencer with understanding, "And none of you knew that Jo was not in the country when I actually returned to the BAU. I think I would have probably slept better if she had been here…if I have a nightmare I seem to settle very quickly if Jo's with me. I felt far happier and steadier once she had come back and she decided to move in here…It's frightening how dependent I've become on Jo being the person I come home to." Spencer said confessing his emotional dependency upon the person who had become central to his world.

"Jo's your anchor, we all need someone or things can get on top of you. Having an anchor in our work is a good thing, it acts as our point of normality…It has been getting me down recently but I think I'm seeing things a little clearer again…I've been in contact with some old friends and I went to see my son."

Spencer looked up at the mention of his son, and Gideon smiled, "It was good to see Stephen again and we spent a happy few days and have agreed to try and keep in more regular contact but with our job…."

Spencer nodded his understanding but he was pleased that the father and son seemed to be both making the effort. Spencer missed his Dad but Alan had slipped effortlessly into that guiding role and together with Margaret, Spencer felt very much part of Jo's family even when Jo was not there. Gideon had been moving more into the background as his support even before the Hankel case but now his whole life had taken a seismic shift since he had been gathered into the Petersen family.

"Is that your father?" Gideon suddenly asked looking towards a photograph in an elegant plain silver frame, it had been taken a month before his death and was very treasured by his son. Jo had bought the expensive frame for it and persuaded him to put it on show on the bookcase. Gideon thought that the son had his father's sensitive eyes.

"Yes, one of his colleagues sent it me and we managed to get a recent one of Mom too where she's actually smiling," Spencer indicated an identical silver framed photograph on the other bookcase, "It was a good day last Saturday and she didn't feel threatened by the camera. Jo sang for her but she doesn't realise that we're living together…" explained Spencer, and Gideon was once more reminded of the difficult background this genius had endured but his gentle nature seemed to shine through his adversity.

"Can I play for you?" Spencer suddenly asked breaking the visual spell of the photographs.

"I'd like that…" and Gideon watched the long limbed man go to the black case by the last window and open up the lid. He reverently took out the lute and Gideon watched the transformation before his eyes as the usually restless slender fingers stilled and began to at first tune the strings. Then the open face of the musician was revealed in all his sensitivity, and Jason Gideon was seeing an inner man he'd never observed before and he felt again humbled by the trust that was being extended to him that evening.

"I've been transcribing some Bach," Spencer began, " Did you know that Bach loved the lute but scholars don't think he could play. He designed a gut strung harpsichord called the lautenwerk to imitate the lute's sound and that it's supposed to have fooled the lutenists of Bach's time. But then what he composed at the lautenwerk couldn't be played on the 13 course instruments of the time. My father originally taught me to play the violin but after he left my Mom smashed my instrument and I was only allowed to play the lute." Gideon mentally flinched at this new information about the man's early life, " Anyway, I've transcribed the violin sonata in G minor…it makes a change to playing Dowland."

Gideon sat captured by the introductory lecture but then suddenly he saw the musician become totally engrossed in the complex music, as the instrument and player became one to fill the room with beauty. Gideon was immediately reminded of the pencil drawing in the vestibule. JEM had captured the oneness of the player and his instrument perfectly and the older man knew that this piece was specially chosen for him because Spencer knew of his love of J.S.Bach's instrumental music. The notes flowed effortlessly; Gideon's eyes became bewitched by the delicacy of the long bony fingers that coaxed the strings to sing. The senior profiler felt the music wrap around him, healing the distance that had formed in a way that no words could have managed. Music had the wonderful power to reach the soul and help to share the goodness that both men held at the core of their beings.

The magic continued as after playing the four movements, Spencer retuned the lute and then began to play the prelude of the Partita in E major that he had transposed to F major for the lute… All six movements were played with a flowing sensitivity…and Jason let the music weave its healing spell. When the music came to an end, they just sat silently contemplating the memory of the intricate musical patterns that Spencer had been playing. Then Spencer looked up, turning towards the Go table and his face broke into the biggest smile that Gideon had seen but it was not for him. Gideon turned to face the recipient of the smile. She was a young woman with short dark loose curled hair framing a broad open face with the darkest of eyes that made it impossible to see where the iris and pupil met. Her smile was open and unaffected, the burgundy red of her silk blouse complimented her natural colouring and the panelled expensive black silk skirt, which fell to her mid calf, accentuated the curves of her hips. She was standing in flat soft black leather pumps that had enabled her to enter the room soundlessly, but she had the wisdom and sensitivity to not break the spell that the musician had woven.

"Jo this is Jason Gideon…" Spencer said softly.

She smiled with warm eyes and was suddenly before the older man. He noticed how she seemed to walk quickly but with hardly a sound even the rustle of her pure silk skirt was muted.

"I'm so pleased you came, Spencer told me he had left you a note," she said offering her hand in friendship. Jason Gideon felt that this woman was not afraid of his reputation or his work as she confidently shook his hand and met his eyes.

"You thought I would be gone before you returned?" he asked with a mischievous twinkle in his own dark eyes.

"Yes, I didn't know if you would want to meet me," she confessed and sat down on the couch, the opposite end to Spencer but nearer to the older man.

"Why did you think that?" asked Gideon a little puzzled by her.

"Well…you people seem to like to keep your private lives and work separate and I only know peoples' names at the moment so it's a pleasure to meet Spencer's mentor."

"But you are going to come to the Christmas event at the Bureau…it's the only time we bring our partners to show them off, trying to make other arrangements can be difficult with our unpredictable work schedules!"

"Ah…yes, I'm getting use to those but then my brother is a doctor so I've been the sympathetic ear for my sister in law for years now, and we are use to him leaving family Sunday lunches because of the calls. Craig, my brother, had been trying to get us to meet for a couple of years. We like to think that Spencer's sick leave provided us with an unexpected and uninterrupted time to get to know each other!"

Gideon chuckled, "Something good to come out of the mending process…"

"Exactly! We saw each other every day after we finally met…My Uncle Jeff was very suspicious of my two hour lunches…."

"Two hours?"

"Well, we didn't want to hurry things, I always went into work an hour early to make up for the change in my routine but the office was suspicious…Can't keep anything secret when you work for family…."

It was nearly two hours later when Gideon had left the happy couple, after coffee and more music, which this time included mostly Dowland, and Jo had sung a couple of songs. Jason Gideon drove towards Maryland feeling a mixture of happiness and, if he was being honest, envy. He was delighted that Spencer Reid had met such a charming, educated and equally sensitive partner. He thought that they had a steadiness and understanding as a couple that had the makings of an enduring partnership. Reid had not had the happiest of lives but Gideon had felt the happiness in their home as soon as he crossed the threshold.

Gideon also envied the couple their happiness and warm home because he no longer had that in his own life. He had friends and an active social life when the work permitted leisure time but he missed having a woman he could trust to go home to and share his leisure time with. Anne had shared some of those times before the Garner case but having a man's head delivered in a box to your haven was not conducive to a stable relationship. Anne had broken off their friendship soon after because she was traumatised by the incident and she felt that she could not cope with the realities of his job. It was ironic that cases very rarely actually entered your personal space when off duty, but Garner had totally unsettled Gideon by his ability to invade his very private retreat from the horrors of his work. Gideon had other women friends he could take out and entertain; he was of an age when there were quite a lot of divorcees and widows circulating in his leisure world. He turned into Arthur Street and entered the underground carpark for his apartment block. As Gideon took the elevator a part of his mind wondered how Morgan would cope with the Reid he had glimpsed tonight. Spencer Reid was a man who was now far more stable than the team's Casanova and if his partnership with Jo endured then Reid would cope with the pressures of being a senior psych.

Gideon turned the key and the door swung open; there was no warm greeting, no light glowing ready for his arrival, no cooking smells to make him feel guilty that he had not made it home in time for the evening meal…The job was a bitch…

End of Chapter 25


	26. Chapter 26

The In-Between Times: Chapter 26

**By Helena Fallon**

**Reference will be made to 'Ashes and Dust'.**

Hotchner sat at his desk, two weeks of stand down had been beneficial even if the circumstances had been unexpected and incredibly stupid. However, Reid had been back for the last two days and he seemed to have settled things between himself and Prentiss. If the other BAU staff were expecting some awkwardness between them they were very disappointed. J.J. had said that Reid had called in the office at home time on Wednesday and had made his peace with Prentiss and not to worry. Gideon had told him yesterday morning that he'd found an invite to visit Reid and he had also later met Jo. The Unit Chief had listened to the senior psych recount the wonders of hearing Reid play his lute and how welcoming the young man had been to him. Both men knew that the previous incidents could have had the makings of a break up for the team yet so far Reid's actions seemed to be re-assuring the department that he had moved on concerning the matters. Hotch thought how quiet Reid seemed to be but it was a quiet confidence of belief in himself and he didn't seem to be holding any grudges. Morgan and Garcia were expected back next week and Hotch hoped Reid would handle them with the same amount of grace as the department again were anticipating some sort of showdown. However, Hotch had to admit to himself that he was still annoyed with Garcia and Morgan and if Reid was less conciliatory towards the pair then he would be very understanding.

Hotchner was also grateful for the support he was getting from Max Pentall who seemed to have smoothed things with the upper echelons. Hotchner's superiors appeared to have accepted Max's explanation for the recent events that had lead to disciplinary action. Max had used the incidents as examples of what happens when you work agents into the ground to an extent that they begin to misjudge situations and consequently fail to follow procedure. On reflection, all the disciplined personnel were fortunate to still have their positions within the BAU and the Mental Health Services had played a big part in saving their careers.

Hotch signed off the last report and closed the file. He got up and placed it into the filing cabinet and locked the drawer. He picked up his car keys and his black leather brief case and headed for the door. Hotch was pleased to see that Reid was still there, finishing off what looked to be the last one in the pile Barry had given him. Reid had worked solidly since returning yesterday and had not complained about the number of requests given to him. Hotch decided to stop by his desk before leaving. Spencer looked up as he approached and smiled.

"Last one, " he assured his boss.

Hotch smiled back, he had missed Reid's quiet presence when he had been on sick leave and his first few weeks back had been unsettling for the whole team but he seemed a lot happier since his return yesterday. Gideon was convinced it was because he just felt confident about his relationship with Jo Petersen and not to worry about him.

"You are going home …I don't want Jo thinking me a slave-driver," Hotchner said.

"Oh you're safe…it's Barry who has been marked out for all the requests he's given me," Reid replied with twinkling eyes and Hotch thought that it was good to once more see the gentle humour shining in them.

"Personnel have confirmed that both Garcia and Morgan will be back on Monday," Hotch said quietly as he wanted Reid to be prepared for their return.

The young man's soft eyes seemed to darken as the twinkling faded, "It will be all right Hotch. They both know they went too far and I'm not going to be making life hell for them…even if the department gossips would like to have something to report. I would like a genuine apology though. I'll try and come in early enough to have a few quiet words with both of them before we start work."

Hotch nodded and was again thankful for the man's even temperament because a more flamboyant attention seeking agent might have chosen to make their lapses in protocol the excuse for unpleasant staff relations. Hotchner was reminded how Reid had reacted to being informed about the disciplinary hearings and how he had seen beyond the incident to the bigger picture of the team's future. The Unit Chief hoped that Spencer Reid would be part of the team for many years to come because he seemed to be developing a quiet steadiness that Hotch felt he could rely on.

"Do you have anything special planned for the weekend?" Hotch asked him conversationally.

"I'm clay pigeon shooting with Craig and Alan on Saturday afternoon while the women of the Petersen family are plotting "Christmas"…Don't ask…it'll be my first experience of a Petersen Christmas so I'm being kept in the dark. Craig said that the men leave it to the ladies to organise and then we men just do as we're told."

Hotch grinned, "They all get together for Christmas?"

"Yeah, since Daniel Petersen and Lawrence Bevan were killed in 911, they make the point of all coming together so the Bevans can join in the family fun with Craig's children. The women share out the food preparation between them so it doesn't seem such a strain on anyone. Alan and Jeff assured me that our role as men is to play with the children and get them out of the house, while the women are busy, and just praise the ladies for their efforts. It sounds good to me!"

"Well I hope that we'll be around so you can experience it all…"

"Yeah, well it won't be the first time that Craig has been working or called into an emergency…It's one of the reasons that Margaret likes to have her grandchildren over so Melinda isn't coping on her own with two children under 5…"

"She sounds very kind and sensible. I know we're grateful for Hayley's sister who often comes to stay to help when I'm not there at holiday times."

Reid nodded, "Yeah, I have to admit that I was looking for a partner who had a supportive family or friend's network because of our job. I noticed how the partnerships that last are the ones where there's support and the woman has a lot to occupy herself with."

The Unit Chief nodded and understood the admission that the agent had deliberately profiled Jo, it was what any sensible profiler did considering the stresses their work placed on any relationship. However, he knew that Craig was a friend before he met the sister and, from processing the forms himself, he suspected that the brother would have not introduced any man to his sister who he did not think appropriate. Hotch still had his law network of friends and the news that Jo Petersen had someone from Quantico had filtered back to him. Hotch was aware that the Petersens had accepted Reid as family and that could only be for the good as far as Reid's career was concerned. The Director had even mentioned the fact that 'young Dr. Reid' had found himself a lady from a good Virginian family and Judge Petersen thought them a settled pair. Hotch had noticed how Erin Strauss had looked up at that piece of gossip and he had inwardly smiled, Strauss liked to name drop and was known for her social network.

As Hotch drove home, he hoped that next week went as well as the present one because the return of Prentiss and Gideon had gone smoothly. He thought that Gideon looked a lot better and he settled down to working through the requests with the rest of them as if he had never been away. There also seemed to be just a quiet respect between Gideon and Reid that he thought was healthy and Gideon was intent on picking up things in his own personal life again. The job was draining but there was nothing like the satisfaction when you caught an unsub, and it was even better when you saved a victim. He turned into his drive, the Hotchners were going to take Jack to visit his cousins tomorrow and the family hoped to go to the zoo on Sunday, a trip they had talked about doing for some time. The National Zoololgical Park in Washington was a favourite of Hayley's because there was always something of interest to see. Jack wanted to see the pandas and then there was the children's area. He turned off the engine and got out of the car smiling at Jack's excited face pressed to the hall window.

**Quantico, Monday around 8 a.m.**

Penelope Garcia had received the call on Friday afternoon to come in early to collect her ID on Monday morning. She was now back in the department that she was very lucky to still be a part of after her own stupidity. The nightshift had seen her arrive and a few gave her shy smiles as they were on their way out but there was an awkwardness as they all obviously knew the reason for her suspension.

Garcia entered her office, she had been told that Ben had been doing her duties while suspended but that the away team had been on stand down so Ben had experienced a relatively easy time in her seat. Garcia let her mind roam; Ben was a prematurely balding man in his mid thirties who was happily married with four children. He and Georgina had two sets of twins and dare not try for a son…Georgina had said that they would like a son but knowing her luck she would probably have another set of identical twin daughters. Reid had fascinated her last Christmas with his facts on the rarity of a woman having two sets of identical twins…Garcia couldn't remember the actual figures now but it was typical of the genius.

She began to put her pots of brightly coloured novelty pens back into place. Ben had carefully placed all her little bright trinkets, as he called them, to one side on top of a filing cabinet. She sat at her computer and tried to feel confident but she felt very nervous. On one level it felt good to be back but, on another, she now had to face her colleagues. J.J. had kept in contact and was a source of gossip for her time out. The slender blond had told her how everyone had been kind to Prentiss when she returned and that Reid had come in specially to see her. They seemed to have made their peace quite easily because the genius had wanted to move on. But Garcia wondered if Reid would forgive her so easily, she had done more than just stake out his apartment.

"Garcia!" the voice commanded behind her and she almost fell off her chair. She swung round…

"Oh, sir, is …is there anything you wanted?" she managed to say in a very flustered way at seeing Jason Gideon standing in her room.

Gideon smiled gently, "No I didn't want anything specifically, I just wanted to say…It's good to see you back, the department is very quiet without you."

She looked at him holding back the tears that were forming at his unexpected kind words, "Thank you, but it was really my own stupid fault…" she said but couldn't go on any further.

"We have all learnt lessons Garcia," he said softly and Garcia thought there was a sadness in his voice, "You'll not do that again will you?" he said in a tone reminiscent of an old schoolmaster.

Garcia shook her head, "No sir…Is Reid in yet?" and she felt her heart pound as she mentioned his name.

"Not yet, but there has been an accident on the Alexandria road so it may have held him up. Don't worry…you know our genius is a softy."

"Who's a softy?" asked Hotch as he walked in and Garcia thought her room was beginning to feel very small.

"Reid," replied Gideon leaving so Hotch could say whatever he wished privately.

Hotch stared at her, there was a severity to the Unit Chief and Garcia felt like a blast of icy air had engulfed her under his gaze.

"Garcia…I hope that you did some serious thinking while suspended and that you will not allow your judgement to be swayed in future by friendship," he said sternly.

Garcia breathed but her heart was racing, "No sir, I…I've learnt my lesson, sir,"

Hotch nodded and then his features softened, "Ben was far too quiet, we hardly knew he was here…It's good to have you back but don't do anything else stupid because I've used up all my favours where you're concerned."

Garcia nodded and suddenly he was gone and the woman felt like she was going to explode with the tension. She made an escape to the ladies room and was shocked at her white features and she thought how grotesque the bright red lipstick looked against her white face, shiny black framed spectacles and blond hair. Garcia had deliberately chosen to wear her favourite vermillion dress to try and boost her confidence but she didn't feel it was working. She washed her hands and pulled herself together and decided to go and make herself a mug of tea in the kitchen area.

She had just poured the boiling water over the tea bag when she looked up to see Reid standing in the doorway and her hand holding the teaspoon began to shake with nerves.

"Oh Garcia!" Reid's soft voice said sadly and suddenly he was beside her and had taken her shaking hands into his own. She found herself looking into his brown puppy dog eyes that shone with a kindness she felt she didn't deserve.

"Garcia," he repeated gently, "I'm not going to lecture you…I think your conscience will have done more than enough these past two weeks."

Garcia felt her eyes swell with tears.

"Oh goodness, don't cry…Hotch will want to know what I've been doing to you…" he whispered.

Reid reached across to a tissue box on the counter top and Garcia found herself dabbing the tears that had escaped.

"You're all right aren't you?" Reid asked her seriously, the big soft eyes shining with concern.

Garcia nodded, but for the moment she couldn't speak the words she had rehearsed numerous times during her suspension. She breathed deeply aware that people would be able to see them if they were in the bullpen…

"I'm sorry…" she whispered and her voice broke and she felt herself quaking inside with the tension.

Reid looked at her momentarily nonplussed and then did the one thing that was totally unexpected, he just moved gently forward and gave her a hug…For Garcia it was the most wonderful gift of acceptance at that moment when she could not find the words to express her regrets.

"I know you'll never do that again," Spencer whispered in her ear and he heard her whisper back, "Never."

Hotch had come out of his room to talk to Barry and had seen Reid go to the kitchen when he saw Garcia and had witnessed the scene. He smiled gently at Barry who shook his head…

"Well if the gossips wanted a dramatic argument or cross words they are disappointed...it's not Reid's style," Barry whispered, "It'll be all right, she'll have a bit more colour after that little healing hug."

Hotch caught Gideon out of the corner of his eye, he was standing nearby and had witnessed the meeting too. He suddenly smiled and nodded his approval, and walked over.

"Reid was right to do that…she was shaking dreadfully when I went in to see her…I'm very impressed with him," and turned and went on his way up the steps.

Barry grinned, "Typical Gideon, he'll not say that to Reid's face but he's proud of him for that human hug," Barry said and gave Hotch the file than he had been holding, "Those are the latest stats for the 'successful outcomes' we have had this last quarter."

Hotch noted how many faces were turned towards the kitchen but they could not hear the words said. Then they saw Garcia smile as Reid let her go, and the colour returned to her cheeks, it was then that Hotch felt the tension disappear from the bullpen. Hotch was witnessing a more mature Spencer Reid emerging and he hoped that it would continue. He couldn't have imagined Reid hugging Garcia so spontaneously before the Hankel case and he doubted that he would see it again in the near future, but like Gideon and Barry said…it was just what the woman needed.

Reid returned to his desk as if nothing had happened and no one alluded to anything they had witnessed. Reid was amazed at himself and realised that he had not even blushed at his spontaneous hug but he was sure that Jo would understand his actions. He resolved to tell her what he had done when he got home so there would be no possibility of misunderstanding. Emily smiled warmly at him as she opened her internal mail and she wondered how he would handle things with Morgan.

Morgan swaggered in carrying a beautiful mixed flower arrangement in a basket. It was full of bright reds, yellows and oranges and he went straight into Garcia's office with the colourful gift.

" Morning Baby Doll! You told me to stay away," he said expansively, "But I've been wanting to give you some flowers as well as my apologies and I didn't want to take the cowards way out by having them delivered by a florist."

He placed the basket on top of the filing cabinet and turned to face the speechless Garcia.

"They are lovely, " she managed and was amazed at how good her morning was going so far, "Thank you…" she said but her voice held none of its former brightness and she felt apprehensive about her relationship with Derek Morgan. The demotion and suspension had given Penelope plenty of time to be introspective and she had decided to have a more professional attitude when dealing with colleagues. She had a lot of work to do to convince her superiors that she was deserving of the second chance they had given her.

Morgan nodded in acknowledgement but she noticed that he had a serious air about him and was even wearing a sober dark grey suit and pale blue shirt with a co-ordinating silk tie. He focused on her, "I am sorry Penelope, I misused our friendship and it was wrong of me…I got you into a lot of trouble and I've had to do some serious soul searching myself. I went too far and I'm only hoping Reid will understand."

"He has been very kind to me, but you have to make your own peace…" she said understanding his apprehension and feeling that she didn't know this indecisive Derek Morgan before her. "For my part, I should have said no to you and I think we should be less silly towards each other from now on…The Bureau will be watching our behaviour and I have to build up trust amongst the security people once more. I think being more professional will give a better impression," she added firmly, thinking it best to be totally honest about how she wanted to continue in the BAU.

Morgan had not expected such formal words but his conscience told him that he deserved them. However, the incident did not put him into the best frame of mind. He thought the flowers and apology would be enough to reclaim Garcia's friendship but he had met with a thorny barrier and he was feeling bloodied already.

Morgan nodded and left feeling subdued. As he entered the bullpen he noticed the searching looks they gave him as he approached his desk. Morgan scanned the area but couldn't see the genius. Prentiss gave him a smile in greeting as he sat down and absently picked up the pile of internal mail waiting for him.

"You're looking smart, how are you feeling?" Prentiss quietly asked, genuinely concerned as she picked up his tension, as he sat at his desk automatically tearing open envelopes but with no enthusiasm for reading the contents. Morgan was used to feeling comfortable in his work place but this time he sensed an under current of hostility.

"Fine…I've had a very introspective couple of weeks," he replied truthfully, "Is Reid about?"

"Yeah…he was very kind with Garcia, she looked dreadful when she first arrived but Reid was gentle and understanding…" assured Prentiss hoping it would settle the agent.

"He's forgiven you?" Morgan probed.

"Yes, he was really nice about it and apologised to me about how rude he was on the Houston case. His girlfriend's called Jo, she's been through the security checks…I don't know anything more about her. Reid was helping with psych evaluations for three days last week but he really put his head down when he returned to do his share of requests…He and Gideon seem to be working well again. I think we all needed a rest to get things into perspective."

"Yeah, well getting demoted by three points and a two week suspension was not my idea of a rest," Morgan griped.

Prentiss looked hard at him and wondered if she should remind Morgan that he had been way out of line. The disciplinary board could have removed him from the department and assigned him to some backwater.

He looked up, "What?" he demanded sulkily and Prentiss thought he was heading for a fall if he continued like that.

"Morgan our actions got us before the disciplinary board…we didn't follow procedure. Did you get out of bed the wrong way? Hotch and Gideon have both been kind to me and Garcia with our returns. I'd get rid of the chip on your shoulder pretty quickly because I think Hotch has noticed you," Prentiss said quietly as she appeared to scan a letter about her pension.

Morgan looked up and could see Hotch heading towards him.

"Can I have a word in my office," he said to him and Morgan followed the Unit Chief up the steps feeling the bullpens' eyes on his back.

Morgan closed the door and was instantly reminded of the last time he was in the Unit Chief's office.

"I hope," said Hotch without preamble, " that you are going to have a bit more respect for people's personal space from now on and the reasons for procedure if there are concerns about team members."

"Yeah, I've had quite a time with my conscience and sessions with Erroll Hart," replied Morgan but he didn't want to be reminded of his failures.

Hotchner's shrewd eyes bore into Morgan and the younger man wondered if the Unit Chief wanted him on the team anymore.

"Erroll Hart argued your case after your disciplinary hearing and you were given a second chance…I hope you will not waste it because, like I told Garcia, I've used up my favours and your behaviour with the board did not go down very well. Reardon does not like to be challenged like that so I advise you to keep out of trouble because I probably won't be able to mount a very good rearguard action for a rescue in the future. Strauss is aware of your behaviour and you step out of line and she'll use it as the excuse to boot you out of Quantico. We are back to ready status so be prepared for a case coming up…"

"Where's Reid?" Morgan asked bluntly, changing the subject, "I didn't see him in the bullpen."

"He's been called for one of his regular drug tests. They don't take long but it's a trek to the labs…" Hotch replied honestly and Morgan looked a little guilty at the reminder of the misconceptions that had such unhappy ramifications.

"Morgan if only you had come to me with your suspicions I would have told you the truth…Reid has a right to his privacy concerning that procedure and that is why I was being discreet about them. However, the fact remains that if you had thought things through clearly then you would have realised that there was an alternative explanation for your suspicions. I hope that your sessions with Erroll Hart have been beneficial because you owe your position back here to him," Hotch said solemnly hoping that Morgan would temper his alpha male image. He didn't like the undercurrent of moodiness he sensed in him at the moment and he still seemed to have too much cockiness about him despite his suspension. Hotch was aware of the bullpen being divided over Garcia's actions and Morgan was not as popular as he liked to imagine himself to be.

"Right, if that's all I'll go and work my way through the mail that's mounted up," he said ready to escape the boss's office.

Hotch nodded his dismissal but he felt uneasy, he didn't need Morgan feeling downtrodden and blaming everyone else for his stupidity. The Unit Chief went and opened his office door and kept an eye on the bullpen, he wanted to know when Reid returned.

Morgan went back to his desk but he was aware how people were avoiding meeting his eyes. He had hoped that Garcia would have been more forgiving but expensive flowers had not gone very far with the bridge building, in fact he didn't know the Garcia he had seen this morning. Morgan had felt that Garcia had retreated to a forbidding fortress and he was in unknown territory. He looked towards Prentiss who had her head down reading a report on the upgrading of their medical insurance. Morgan felt suddenly very isolated in this department and he was feeling insecure about his future in the Bureau.

"Hey, Morgan!"

He looked up to find J.J. smiling at him, "Like the basket of flowers you gave Garcia…I'm jealous!"

Morgan managed a smile in return but it had none of his old confidence, in fact, trying to follow through Erroll's changes for his life had been far more difficult than he had anticipated. For the first time in Morgan's life he had not been able to successfully chat up the women who had interested him. He had recently experienced rejection by professional females, in their early thirties, who had been thoroughly unimpressed by his FBI credentials. These had been older and wiser women who had met more than their fill of the Washington political elite, the Pentagon guys, the CIA and FBI. Morgan had been getting to know a more demanding social scene than his previous superficial world. The open lectures he had attended were very interesting but the available single women were intellectually more demanding and were of an age that was interested in more long-term relationships.

"You OK?" J.J. asked with her quiet and concerned voice.

"Yeah, I guess I'm just waiting for Reid…"

Jareau nodded with understanding but Morgan had been the instrument of his own downfall and she really couldn't feel that sorry for him.

At that moment she saw Spencer Reid's tall slender figure emerge through the departments' glass doors. She thought the dark burgundy red shirt really suited him along with the charcoal chinos. The grey and black finely striped tie looked new and was loosely knotted in his usual careless style but the grey sleeveless vest reminded her that this was their genius. He slipped into the kitchen and Morgan made his move. Jareau and Prentiss met each other's eyes; both were a little apprehensive because Morgan had pushed the bounds of friendship a little too far…

Reid knew Morgan would join him, he just set about making himself a coffee and waited unsure how he was going to handle things until Morgan started the ball rolling.

"Hey Reid…" Morgan began with his usual upbeat bravado and faltered when Reid looked at him. Spencer Reid gave him a penetrating look and Morgan felt he had just been analysed in the seconds that he had entered the kitchen.

"Reid," he began again, "I owe you an apology."

"Yes you do," came the deadly quiet reply and Morgan felt his confidence plummet before the younger man. The man in this kitchen was not the quiet nerd who he had teased before the Hankel case; this man had an air about him that made Morgan feel uneasy.

He looked into the enormous brown eyes, they were unusually guarded and Morgan knew he had badly injured whatever friendship he thought they shared.

"Look. I'm sorry," he blurted out.

"For which bit Morgan…the staking out of my apartment or the going into my locked hotel room to go through my things…"

'Oh shit…some one had told him,' thought Morgan, this time he really was caught with his sins exposed.

"Yeah right…I shouldn't have done that…I'm sorry…"

"Oh you just think mumbling, without any conviction, 'I'm sorry,' is all right?" Reid replied and Morgan was stunned by the response.

"What isn't it enough?" Morgan's voice was louder than he would have liked but he didn't like his apology challenged.

"I'm supposed to trust you Morgan…but you got the pass key to my room illegally and then went through my personal things. However, when you found what you thought were drugs you didn't even go to Hotch…Oh no, not Agent Morgan…he thinks himself above the rules and respect for people's personal space. How am I supposed to trust you next time we're out on a case? I would never have dreamed of treating a colleague how you've treated me. You deserve the demotion and I hope that you have learnt that Derek Morgan cannot walk on water. Garcia has learnt her lesson and she will be under scrutiny from now on for her own stupidity in letting you persuade her to try and hack my medical records. Well you would have both been disappointed Morgan, there is nothing of great interest in my records, but you are a fool to expect me to meekly accept an apology which I don't think carries any sincerity in it."

Morgan was speechless; he had not expected this response from the gentle Reid.

"Look I've said sorry…"

"Right, so you keep saying, but lets get this clear…no coming near my home, no entering my hotel room uninvited and my personal life is off limits to you," said Reid in a quiet firm voice that was heard by the bullpen which was all holding its collective breath.

Hotch who had come down to the bullpen with a file for Barry, as an excuse to witness the meeting, thought that Morgan deserved being reminded of his underhand methods. Hotch had sensed the collective gasp of the bullpen at the revelation that Morgan had gone through Reid's things…Prentiss looked at him when she heard that and Hotch merely met her gaze steadily. Morgan had got himself into the mess and now it was not going to be that easy to get his position back in the department.

"Look I was worried about you…" Morgan tried to justify his actions.

"Morgan…if you had gone to Hotch with your worries, or even had spoken to me, then you would have heard the truth…You got yourself into this mess and I hope you are going to learn that other people have feelings of privacy which you have just trampled over."

"So my being concerned about you is no defence?" challenged the angry Morgan.

"Morgan I was worried about you over Chicago but I didn't go into you room when you were not there, I didn't stake out you house…I watched and gave you quiet support, respecting your personal space to cope with your experiences. I was worried about Elle, but I never went near her outside work and would never have dreamed of going to her home or going through her hotel room when she was not there."

Morgan stood at a loss of how to say sorry, he did not know this quiet man whose cold anger lashed out at him. This was a man who was a stranger and the reality of his actions finally hit him. How was he going to get the respect back of the team and the department?

"How the hell do I say sorry to you?" he asked exasperated and feeling ashamed for the obvious hurt he had inflicted.

"By having some respect for people Morgan and acting your age. Jo summed it up nicely… that she was worried about the calibre of FBI agents if they couldn't put the facts together, after all would the Mental Health Team be training me if I were a drug addict? As for you staking out our home…she thinks you're a pretty sad case that you haven't got something better to do with your time. Morgan for your own good, you ought to start acting with more sensitivity towards your colleagues then they just might respond in kind."

"I don't need some nerdy kid telling me what to do," Morgan snapped back as his temper flared.

"I'm not a kid…I have three doctorates and by the age of 10, I was looking after a mentally ill mother after my father left. Yes, your father was killed, but I didn't have the spoilt childhood you had Morgan and even now your Mom is making excuses for you…If she had taken more of a stand over your behaviour then you wouldn't have the overblown ego you now display. There is confidence and there is arrogance and you have the latter when it comes to relationships. You think you just have to smile and turn on the charm and all is forgiven …because that is what you did with your Mom. Well in the real world it doesn't work like that. Friendship and trust is earned and you have severely dented my trust in you…entering my hotel room on an illegal search…you're very lucky that I didn't put in a formal complaint when I saw the disciplinary tapes…"

Morgan paled, "You saw the disciplinary tapes?" he repeated in shock.

"Yes, because I'm a member of the Mental Health Team and you were staking out my home and had encouraged another operative to try and hack my medical records. Charles Reardon insisted that I watched the tapes…you are intelligent enough to work out for yourself his motives. It was only because I respect Erroll and his attempt to try and save your career that I didn't take up the issue of the illegal search."

The bullpen was agog and Prentiss was beginning to realise that Morgan had not been totally honest with her either…He had made no mention of searching Reid's hotel room and what exactly had he found? Emily found Hotch giving her a searching look and she shrugged and shook her head implying that was new to her. Hotch deliberately made no move to break up the confrontation. He decided to let Reid fight his own battle and show the BAU that he could handle Morgan and that from now on the department's Casanova had to watch his step.

Morgan just stood staring at the man in front of him, he had not expected the usually gentle and easy going Reid to stand up to him like this and now the whole department would know exactly what he had done. Reardon had obviously thought the agent would act on learning about the illegal search but Reid played his own game and was no one's puppet. It was OK for Erroll to pull him up, but not the kid. His fists had automatically formed but he kept his arms stiffly at his sides….

"He entered Reid's hotel room?" said Gideon to Hotch in a stony voice.

Hotch was not surprised that Gideon had come out of his office and was now standing beside him.

"In New Orleans when he had gone to say goodbye to his friend," explained Hotch.

"What the hell did he think he was doing and the disciplinary board let that go?" Gideon asked in disbelief, "I'm going to give him one hell of a talking to…Reid would never have done that to anyone."

"Give Reid the chance to get a genuine apology Jason," Hotch softly said still wanting Reid to show Morgan that he was unafraid of confrontation and if the older man dared to hit him that would be the end of his career. "Reardon was surprised that Reid wouldn't make a formal complaint about it." Hotchner added.

"Reid, I'm really sorry…I got it all wrong and I was way out of order but, the bottom line is, I was genuinely worried about you and yes I didn't follow procedure. I've already been told that Erroll saved my ass and I guess I owe you for not making a formal complaint, as I'm sure Reardon was angling for that… But we've got to work together so I was hoping that at least you would give me some leeway to prove that I've learnt my lesson," said Morgan in an unsure voice and he could feel his stomach twisting in on its self. Derek Morgan was not use to eating humble pie but he knew in his heart that he deserved the darts of censure that Reid had thrown his way.

"For the sake of the team I will accept your apology but respect my personal space," Reid replied and picked up his coffee and then calmly left the kitchen for his desk. Reid steadily met the stern eyes of his boss and mentor but he felt now that the BAU were aware that Spencer Reid was not to be walked over and was certainly not a kid.

Morgan felt the anger erupt from within and he smashed his right fist down on the counter top, the resulting surge of pain up his arm helped to ground him to the reality of returning to work.

"Feel better?" Gideon said quietly behind him, but Morgan was still trying to calm the hurt pride that was whirling out of control inside him.

Derek Morgan breathed deeply and forced himself to calm down a bit before turning to face Jason Gideon.

"Well, you weren't doing your job properly with him…" the bitter words came out without thinking.

"No, I got it all wrong too. Reid and I have talked about that and I've had to face some of my own personal issues over the past couple of weeks," the older man confessed.

Morgan had not expected that reply and things began to still around him in the ensuing silence of the kitchen.

"I didn't realise Reardon would play the disciplinary tapes to him," Morgan said totally shaken by thoughts of the possible actions that could have followed.

"Reardon couldn't manipulate Reid…I know I can't either but Spencer Reid, in his own way, has saved both our careers recently by his thoughtful actions. We both owe it to him to respect his abilities both as an agent and as a compassionate and caring human being," Gideon said his voice deliberately barely above a whisper to thwart any eavesdroppers.

"I'm really sorry for what I did…do you think he believes me?"

"Yes, but you have to respect his space from now on. You really have surprised the rest of the team by what you did. Hotch had not said anything about the details of the hearing, not even to me, so no one knew about that illegal search," Gideon replied and moved closer so they could keep their voices down. Morgan breathed deeply and wondered how he was going to get through the day.

"Like Reid said, you have to be far more considerate towards your fellow team members from now on because your actions have been exposed and you have to work at regaining their trust. Making Reardon an enemy puts you in a difficult position especially as Reardon and Strauss are in the same camp," Gideon continued.

"I don't know how to make this better Gideon," Morgan said feeling totally at sea without a hope of land in sight.

Gideon looked at the once overly confident agent and saw all the self-doubt that had been exposed by the sessions with Erroll Hart.

"Reid is not a vindictive person, he told you clearly that you just have to respect his personal space and grow up. I was allowed to see the off duty Reid one evening last week and it was an eye opener. He's certainly not a kid so I would start by reminding yourself that he was a little adult while you were still running round wild on the streets. So your father was killed in front of you but your Mom used that to excuse your behaviour because you were the favourite child of both your parents…and look where it led you. Morgan you have a second chance to remake your career here what you do with that good fortune is up to you and only you. There are some profiling requests being handed out so come and get some work done…" the senior profiler counselled.

The two men left the kitchen area and Morgan was relieved to find that the bullpen was working quietly away on everyday tasks. He sat once more at his desk but neither Reid nor Prentiss broke off to look his way. Morgan was grateful for the work Barry had assigned him and concentrated on that for the next two hours.

Gideon broke the concentration of all three agents when he came to tell them that they had a case and they had 5 minutes before assembling in the conference room. As one they rose and headed for the washrooms as too much coffee eventually caught up with them. But Morgan held back thinking about being on a real case once more and would the other agents trust him.

Reid had already entered the washroom and Morgan wondered how he was going to handle the men's room now but he took a deep breath and opened the door. The younger man was just zipping up and met his eyes squarely.

"You all right?" he asked softly aware of the apprehension that Morgan was now cloaked in.

"Jeez Reid…I really am sorry…You could have blown my career to smithereens," he said letting his remorse surface.

"There are lots of things I could have done but I didn't, so lets move on because this team is under scrutiny and we don't want Strauss having any excuse to break us up."

"It's that bad?" asked Morgan as he stood at the urinal and Reid washed his hands.

"I'm not a political animal and I don't like people trying to use me for their own ends…but even I know that Hotch is walking a very difficult tight rope at the moment. I think we should all be pulling together to support him and his leadership of the team."

Yeah," Morgan agreed and came over to wash his hands, "We good?"

"Just respect my space Morgan, hurry up or they'll send J.J. to get us…"

"They never send…" but then he realised that the gentle Reid was joking and he'd already left but to Morgan's surprise he found him waiting outside.

"A show of unity would be good for BAU morale," Reid softly explained with a wry smile and Morgan found himself walking beside the genius towards the stairs. It felt good to be seen walking together without animosity once more and Morgan held his head high, like his fellow agent, they were proud to be part of an elite team.

Everyone else were assembled when they walked in but Hotch's serious face softened momentarily at the sight of the two men reaching for normality after their earlier confrontation. The Unit Chief also felt the undercurrent of tension disappear as they sat down waiting for Jareau's presentation. She explained that San Francisco feared they had a serial arsonist on their hands and were asking for help.

"Statistically 94 per cent of all serial arsonists are male, 75 per cent are white, and few, if any, are caught," Reid announced in answer to Jareau's initial details

"Few? You don't have a percentage?" Prentiss mildly challenged the genius.

"About 16 per cent, and those 16 per cent set 30 plus fires before they were ever apprehended. I'm trying to be conversational," he added helpfully but Hotch noted the gentle self-mockery.

"Oh…It's not working," Prentiss added dryly and Morgan chuckled at their interchange.

Hotch was grateful for the dry humour that was once again surfacing. They were not being flippant but rather it was their equivalent of the black humour homicide cops and medical personnel used to keep sane with bad cases.

"I'll go see Charlotte Cutler," Hotch volunteered to Gideon.

"You took the burn one last time," Gideon replied feeling that he ought to make the effort.

"It's all right, I got it," Hotch assured and felt that Gideon didn't need reminding of the smell of burnt flesh after the Boston bomb. He knew burnt cases could trigger the nightmares for the older man. Hotchner felt that with the stress Gideon had been experiencing recently he didn't need this sought of reminder aswell.

As it was Hotch should not have worried as Gideon and Morgan eagerly agreed to go to the crime scenes while he took Prentiss with him to the hospital to talk to the dying Charlotte Cutler. Jareau and Reid teamed up to set up the base at the Fire Department Headquarters and start on the profiling of the unsub and victimology. Soon after arriving, Reid managed to burn his fingers on the expresso coffee machine and J.J. heard him muttering how that had been damn stupid because he needed his fingers to play his lute. She had wanted to talk to him more about that but filed the topic away for a more convenient time.

Hotch and Gideon were both pleased that the team seemed to be working effectively and as if nothing had happened to cause the hiatus of the past fortnight. They pulled everyone together for the unsub's profile that they had developed from their evidence gathering.

"The unsub we're looking for is a highly intelligent, under-achieving 35-45 year old white male with a severe narcissistic character disorder," Hotchner began to the assembled detectives.

"Nothing in his life works for long. If he was married, he's now divorced. If he's employed, it won't last," continued Gideon.

Morgan picked up the thread, "What he wants is admiration, but he's got no respect for others, not their feelings and most certainly not their safety."

"He feels entitled. He's like a petulant adolescent. He both resents and he absolutely expects everyone to take care of him," explained Gideon.

"And given that a male relative won't tolerate this behaviour, he most likely lives with a female relative... his mother, grandmother, aunt, whom he exploits." Hotch further coloured in the picture for the audience.

"His arsonist kit is expensive…fire suit, oxygen mask…This suggests that he may be employed, but his personality will not allow him to work closely with others in an office setting," added Morgan, the changing voices keeping the listeners alert to the details they were being given.

"This, along with the information about his vehicle, lead us to believe that he's a travelling salesman of some sort, who works for a big company…big enough not to notice that he's a sociopath," finished Hotchner.

Leah Castro summed up the room's feelings, "O K…this scumbag has issues, we all get it, but why fire?"

Reid, who had been silent until then, suddenly spoke, "He's like a drug addict, only fire's his fix. Each time an addict needs a fix, they need more of the drug to get off. So his crimes most likely get much worse. It would be almost impossible for him to quit without help."

Reid looked up and found himself staring at a troubled Gideon and the guilty faces of Hotch and Morgan.

Gideon wondered if Reid was being deliberately provocative considering the misinterpretations of his post traumatic stress symptoms. Hotch wondered if he had used the analogy subconsciously considering all that had been happening recently. While Morgan thought the genius was deliberating taunting him over his past suspicions. The young agent had just thought the assembled detectives would understand that simple analogy but now seeing his teams' expressions he realised he had touched a raw nerve.

Some of the assembled detectives sensed a hidden subtext amongst the BAU team but decided it was best not to pry because they were just grateful for their help in this matter.

"Thank you all very much," Hotch said hoping that he was correct in thinking that Reid had not deliberately baited his team members.

Over the next few hours, the Unit Chief relaxed because he was certain that Reid's behaviour did not indicate anything untoward as he observed the genius work normally alongside everyone helping to bring the case to a conclusion. Hotch had a quiet respect for what Evan Abby had done but he knew that it was hard on his teenage son and would probably take many more years for him to understand his dying father's actions. Abby had judged the unsub and choose to use what little life he had to trap the arsonist, Vincent Styles, in destroying a contaminated building before a school was built on the site. It was a drastic action, but killing the arsonist by the very method that he had used to murder others was wrong but there was a brutal natural justice about it all.

On the plane home Hotch watched Reid sit alone typing up his group dynamics report, he planned to have a few words with Reid once he had finished his task. Gideon was dozing and J.J. was reading a magazine, while Prentiss and Morgan were discussing Arthur Miller plays. He smiled to himself and thought that perhaps the conversations on the plane were going to be a little more literary in future, as this was not the first time he had heard that pair talking about writers.

Morgan got up and went towards the galley kitchen and Hotch decided to make himself a cup of tea.

"Hey Hotch, you finished your report?" Morgan asked as he made himself a coffee.

"Yeah, not the happiest of cases and I'm glad its over…I hate arson cases," he admitted.

"It's the primeval fear of fire I think at the bottom of it all. I mean its so frightening how destructive it is and yet it's so hypnotic to watch a candle flame," Morgan suddenly said and Hotch thought it unusual for Morgan to talk in this deeper way with him.

"Yes, I know what you mean. We don't have candles on the table now because of Jack, but a candle lit dinner can be so calm and beautiful in the soft light of a candle flame and it adds a magical quality to a room," replied Hotchner as he reached for a cup and teabag.

"You and Reid all right about things now?" Hotch asked quietly just to make sure that his observations were not too far off the mark.

"Yeah, I was out of line and he wants us both to move on and learn from it but not dwell on it," replied Morgan seriously.

Hotch smiled, "Good, we need to keep the team working together." And poured boiling water over the tea bag. As he returned to the cabin of the small jet, he noticed that Reid was just putting his laptop away and headed for the table he was sitting at.

Reid looked up as his boss sat down opposite him.

"Got your report written for Arnie Truelove to evaluate?"

"Yes…You can have a copy if you like," Reid offered.

"I didn't normally get to see the group dynamics reports Gideon used to do… we used to just discuss them briefly," Hotch explained but was assured by the agent's openness towards him.

"I'm still training Hotch and the psych team will discuss it with me when we get back but I'm just pleased that Gideon was OK with me taking it over," he said quietly.

Hotch's face softened, he liked Reid and wondered how he had assessed the team but sensed it was probably just a natural extension of what he did informally anyway.

"I just said that I had resolved things with Garcia before the shift began and that Morgan now understood how I felt and we have come to an understanding and moved on for the good of the team."

Hotch nodded, "I noticed how you both came in together for the initial briefing, that was a good move…"

"It was deliberate so the department saw us working together once again. I told him in the men's room that we shouldn't be giving Strauss ammunition to find fault with the team…The job takes its toll on us without Strauss worrying us. I told you we would work it out…but Morgan needed to know he had gone way over the line I had drawn in the sand."

Hotch nodded with understanding and felt things were going to be fine with the team.

Reid began speaking again, "It was sensitive of you to go to the burns victim…Gideon is more fragile these days and he could cope with the crime scene better. Prentiss was good fun, I like her dry humour with me," and the younger man's eyes sparkled with the memory.

"You and your nerdy statistics…I hope you don't quote them at Jo…"said Hotch suspecting that Reid was going to find further occasions to wind up Emily.

"I have occasionally but she gently reminds me that she's an arts major and maths were not her strong point. It's all nonsense because her uncle lets her do the costing out of projects and all that design work involves a lot of maths…Jo's a very intelligent woman and very shrewd when it comes to her financial calculations."

"I'm jealous that Gideon has met her and heard your lute," Hotchner teased.

Reid laughed, "Well I burnt my fingers on the coffee machine in the fire headquarters so it will be a bit painful to play for a few days now. But when I was in the Clinic, I didn't want my lute brought to me there…in a way I didn't want it contaminated. Then Don turned up one evening with a lute that belonged to the Clinic's own instrument collection. No one could remember it being played and it took me hours to tune it but as soon as I held it I realised just how much I missed making music. My father had taught me the solace of music and I think it was the most valuable thing he ever shared with me."

Hotch leaned back in his seat amazed at this sudden opening up. He had never heard Reid mention his father much other than to say that he had left when he was young but now Hotch was getting another impression.

"You must have missed him?"

"Yes, I loved my Dad, he never divorced my Mom and it has been suggested to me that perhaps coping with my Mom and his work…it just all got to a point where he had to escape for a while. He left money for us but I wish he had taken me too, I did have good times with him," Spencer admitted and Hotch felt he had to reciprocate this glimpse of an earlier time.

"My Dad was a womaniser but my Mom tolerated it, I don't think she wanted to admit that she had made a mistake. He was so charming with his clients and the neighbours thought him a nice guy. But it was when he drank…he used to hit her and me when I tried to defend my Mom. He had a foul temper and I vowed I'd never lay my hands on a woman…but I do have his temper and I make sure that I keep it under control."

"And your Mom made all the usual excuses about the bruises…"

"Oh he was very clever, only hit her where they were going to be hidden by clothes. I tell you when I was a newly fledged prosecutor I was really hard on the men who battered the wives and girlfriends. Then I applied for the Bureau and took on more serious crimes before changing direction."

"But you've always kept up you bar association dues…"

"Yeah, who knows one day I might return to the courtroom," Hotch said with a smile but both men thought that seemed a long way off in the future unless something really changed Hotchner's life.

Suddenly the pilot's voice floated into the cabin announcing five minutes to landing.

"I'll go and wake Gideon. Thank you for the chat, Spencer," Hotch said with a genuine smile and he received a warm open one in return. As Hotch moved back up the aisle he felt that something special had just taken place, between the youngest agent and himself, and he vowed that these little private chats would have to become a feature of the return flights.

When he got home he found the apartment empty and dark and Spencer was a little disappointed. But he knew that Jo was at a practice, the choir was going to be performing Haydn's Creation in December and these practices were an important part of her network of friends and interests. However, he found a freshly baked apple and blackberry pie on the counter top and home-made cheese and asparagus flan in the fridge. He put his dirty washing in the washing machine and went and showered to ritually wash away all the tension from the case…it didn't always work but it did help to just make him feel a bit better. Spencer then settled down to a large slice of the savoury flan with a plain salad and followed it with an equally large portion of the fruit pie, that he warmed in the oven, and topped with two ample spoonfuls of vanilla ice-cream. He sat on the couch watching the news while eating and thought of the woman who had made the food he was enjoying.

Jo knew he was home, he sent her a text message as he boarded the plane and she could see that the lights were on in the apartment as she parked her Lexus. She crept in as quietly as she could and took off her shoes so she could surprise him. She could see the long narrow feet in their odd socks poking off the end of the couch, one navy blue sock and the other purple. As she got closer she saw the dirty plates from his meal on the coffee table. The news report was chattering away but the man was sprawled out looking very young in sleep, his long silky hair looking as if he'd just run his fingers through it rather than a comb. She moved round to sit on the coffee table and reached out with her right hand to gently stroke the cheek…he immediately came too with a jerk.

Brown startled eyes momentarily stared at her, "It's only me," she whispered wondering what horror he might have imagined…The face broke into a grin.

"I've missed you," he said simply, and took in her well-tailored emerald green dress that caressed her feminine figure.

"Everything all right with the team?" she asked, knowing that the week had begun with the return of Garcia and Morgan.

"Yeah, every things fine now…Let's go to bed," he said changing the subject.

Jo smiled and stood up, "I'll put those in the dish washer first," she replied stacking the crockery before picking it up.

Reid stretched and swung his legs round to stand up. He turn off the television and made his way to the bedroom where he hoped they would not be disturbed by a phone call summoning him back to Quantico.

Meanwhile, 20 miles away, Derek Morgan had spent time food shopping before he got home and was enthusiastically greeted by Cluny. He made himself a grilled steak and salad and sat down to unwind before the plasma television as he ate his meal. The case had been a nasty one but it had been resolved to everyone's satisfaction in San Francisco even if Morgan thought Evan Abby's methods, of dealing with the man who had misused his organisation, rather extreme but it did have a certain sense of closure about it all. He looked over towards his desk and saw that the message light was blinking on his phone. Morgan hoped it was not important as he'd deliberately not looked to see if there were any messages when he got home. Sometimes you just had you give yourself a few minutes of personal time and that evening Morgan needed to eat. He knew that it was not work because they would have used his cell number but it might his Mom or sisters. Morgan pressed the 'play' button…

"Hello Derek," said an unsure female voice that he didn't immediately recognise, "I'm not sure if you'll remember me but we met at the Paul Theroux talk last week. I'm Angela Ferris and I'm a kindergarten teacher…Erm… I know you might be busy with your work but I've been given a couple of tickets for the students theatre at Georgetown University…it's a James Thurber fest and you did say that you liked his sense of humour. Anyway, it's for the 16th, this coming Saturday…so if you're interested perhaps you'd like to give me a ring…my number is…"

Morgan picked up the pen and wrote down the digits. He remembered the sweet tempered Angela in her very neat pewter grey suit and he had enjoyed talking to her in the interval. He had offered to take for a coffee after but she said that she had a lift with a literary group and their hired coach would be leaving immediately after the talk. Morgan had given her his phone number because she said that she went to literary talks and the theatre quite a lot at the weekends. He looked at the clock, 21:40, not too late he thought and dialled the number.

"Hello," the unsure voice answered.

"Hi Angela…It's Derek Morgan, I just picked up your message…"

When Morgan went to bed that evening, he felt that perhaps things were beginning to look up and he hoped that they would not have a case to interfere with the date he had just set up.

End of Chapter 26.


	27. Chapter 27

The In-Between Times: Chapter 27

**by Helena Fallon**

Reference will be made to Honor Among Thieves

Aaron Hotchner was grateful that after the arsonist case they had been at Quantico for a few days. He was very worried about Hayley's health; they had been through all of this before and he wondered if the heartache was worth it. He stared out of the window and thought back on their life together. They had met while still at school and had kept in touch as they each went to different establishments to gain their degrees. Hayley had joined him when he began work as a prosecutor for the Manhattan D.A. and Hayley worked as a legal secretary for a judge working in the Queen's district of New York. The couple had lived together for 5 years before deciding to marry. Although they had met at High School, they had been sensible and given each other space to date others if they wanted while at college. However, neither had seriously been involved with anyone else, if anything, the freedom they gave each other just confirmed their feelings for one another. By the time of their marriage, Hotch had been accepted into the Bureau and after a couple of more years as a prosecutor, he changed direction and trained as an agent. Hayley felt that the change to being an agent was the major incentive to get serious about a family.

When they had been married 4 years and Hayley had not experienced a successful pregnancy, she then began the long road of fertility clinics and specialist tests, everything in her life narrowed down to the desire to have her own baby. She was now 41 years old and no matter how many doctors tried to gently tell her that she was fortunate to have a child and perhaps she should be content, Hayley was not. Her eldest sister, Caroline, had three children and Hayley had always wanted two and her mind was concentrating on this goal.

Hotch sat in the hospital waiting room, Hayley had miscarried for the second time in 6 months and was undergoing the cleaning out of the womb by suction to check that the immature placenta was totally removed. It was always the same, she would loose the baby between 11 and 13 weeks a time that indicated that her body's hormonal system did not react correctly to the placenta taking over the role of nourishing the growing foetus.

"Mr. Hotchner," said the tall Black Doctor Greenley who had attended Hayley as soon as she arrived.

Hotch turned away from the window, "Yes…Did everything go well?"

"The procedure went well, there were no complications but…Would you like to come to my office so we can talk without being disturbed," he offered and Hotch nodded unable to summon the energy to speak.

Dr Greenley's office was small and calm with its pale blue walls and numerous potted plants obviously chosen for their foliage with different shapes, sizes and colours. Hotch sat down on the easy chair and the Doctor placed his desk between them to keep the professional distance.

"Mr. Hotchner, I've been reading your wife's medical records...she has a history of miscarriage at this time and yet she successfully carried to term your son 2 years ago."

"Yes," Hotch answered with a dull voice, he remembered the 9 years of emotional torture before Jack was born, "We were expecting another failure and then when we got past the 12th week, then the 13th and then it was the 15th week and we began to relax a little. We just hadn't dared to think about buying any baby things until she was 7 months…afraid to tempt fate…" he looked up into the dark sympathetic eyes of Doctor Greenley who understood the need to let this man speak of his own distress.

"It's Hayley, she always wanted two children …We met at High School and although we went to different places to get our degrees, we always stayed close. When she graduated, we got together again and have been together since. I just wish she would be satisfied with our son, I don't want her to get as obsessed as she was all those years before Jack was born. I don't want Jack to get a feeling that something is wrong and he isn't loved anymore because of Hayley's fixation."

"Then it's purely your wife's desire to have another baby?"

"Yes, 10 years ago I would have said I would have liked children but, after what we have been through, I appreciate what we have. Hayley's 41 and although you have all these celebrities giving birth in their 40's you don't read about them having the numerous miscarriages like Hayley has had."

"I must admit that I would prefer that she did not try and get pregnant for at least another 3 months. Her body needs to adjust and heal a little and perhaps she might see things a little differently then," Dr. Greenley said with compassion, as he felt the man before him was suffering in a way that the wife had not taken into account.

"I tried to reason with her after the miscarriage 6 months ago but after 3 months she said that she was feeling fine and wanted to try again. She just gets so single minded…it's as if we are slipping into the same sort of cycle we did before she managed to carry Jack to term. I swear she just sees me as the sperm making machine and whenever I'm at home its just sex for the purpose of conception…complete with the ovulation tests. That's another thing…my job means I'm not always in the state when she's ovulating so she then moans when I do get home for spoiling her chances for that month. Love and tenderness have nothing to do with it…I'm sorry," Hotch said ashamed that he was venting at this man who had treated them very sensitively since they had arrived at the hospital.

"It's all right. I don't suppose she would even think about adoption?" the Doctor asked.

"No, we had agreed that we would try that if she didn't carry when she conceived Jack but actually there are not the babies available for adoption as people think. Also, Hayley wasn't happy about the more 'open adoption' policy most agencies have now. She felt that she didn't want the birth mother still having contact so I don't even think we would have got through the initial screening."

"So its very much about the strong maternal need to carry and give birth to her own child?"

"Absolutely and it doesn't help matters that her older sister gave birth to her third child last year when she was 44."

"Oh I see," said the Doctor realising that this was a tragic case of a woman who was going to push her own body, and her husband, to the limit to try for another child. He was very sad, this was not a couple that suffered the angst of failing to conceive but the heart rending sorrow of knowing you could get pregnant only to find the woman had a history of recurrent miscarriage. So much hope dashed and her age was against her now she had entered her 40's when there was a natural increase in miscarriage anyway. But at the end of the day, Mrs. Hotchner was extremely fortunate in having a healthy child and Dr. Greenley had too many patients who had not achieved that desired goal.

Louise had come to stay and help over the next few days while Hayley was tearful and Jack was bewildered why his Mommy wasn't happy. Louise was Hayley's younger sister and, although she enjoyed her nieces and nephews, she had no desire to have any children of her own. Louise was a High School teacher and was content to teach English and Drama in a private academy and have a successful career rather than get tied down with children. She had a steady partner and he didn't seem to like the idea of giving up their comfortable lifestyle with the necessary sacrifices needed for parenthood. Fortunately Ethan was mountaineering and the school was on vacation for the Columbus Day weekend and that was always a long weekend for the academy where Louise worked.

Nancy, the Hotchners' next door neighbour, was the friend who had immediately stepped in to look after Jack while Hayley went to the hospital. Nancy was Hayley's closest friend on the estate where they lived and had two children herself, the youngest being 4 and a sweet natured girl who played well with Jack.

"They did a D and C this time then?" Nancy asked Aaron as they sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee.

"It was an incomplete miscarriage and the doctor decided to intervene and not leave things to take their natural course. I think he was trying to make things easier for Hayley, you know so the bleeding didn't drag on like it did the last time," Hotch tried to explain but Hayley had looked dreadfully pale as he had driven her home.

"She reacted badly to the general anaesthetic," Nancy stated and Hotch thought she understood more than he had been giving her credit for.

"Yeah, she wasn't sick but it takes it toll and her blood pressure seems to drop below normal and then the medical staff start to fuss and she doesn't like that!"

"Yes, my twin sister's the same…"Nancy confided.

"You're a twin?" Hotch asked thinking of the woman who he thought was Nancy's sibling.

Nancy nodded, "People always think identical when you say twins but we're definitely non-identical in looks as well as temperament," Nancy replied and then gave a rueful smile. The sister was a stunning redhead while she was mousy and no one would believe they were related.

"Louise will have to go back tomorrow but with luck I'll not get called in tonight," Hotch said silently praying that whatever gods looked over them they would be sympathetic to his plight today.

Nancy nodded in understanding, "Don't worry Aaron, I'm just next door and I'll keep an eye on things when Louise goes home."

"Thanks we appreciate your help," the worried man said and looked up as Louise came in to join them.

"I don't know Aaron, she's really knocked out after that D and C…"

The conversation was picked up by Nancy and allowed Hotch to zone out of the female chatter. Aaron Hotchner was more worried about his wife's emotional stability than the after effects of the minor medical procedure she had been through. He wasn't sure what he was going to do but perhaps he should talk to someone about it….

Aaron Hotchner slipped into work on the Monday very grateful that he had not been called in. He went to his office and scanned the schedule for the away team. Gideon would be giving a lecture in the afternoon if they were not called out on a case. Reid was to go to see Arnie Truelove about the group dynamics report he had written and the rest of the team was down as working on profile requests under Barry's watchful eye. His office door was open and he had heard Prentiss and Morgan chatting away about having a good weekend, he was pleased some people had experienced a restful time. Hotch felt the tension mounting up on the inside, just like it had when he had worked at the Seattle office.

"So you were really surprised?" Morgan was saying in a happy tone.

"What really surprised you?" asked Reid and Emily did a double take at the black shirt with the fine stripe in two tones of green and the black trousers. The grey cashmere vest and the pale green tie completed the look. Jareau had arrived on the scene and caught Emily's appraising look and they shared a glance that spoke volumes for the two women. The women were united in the thought that Reid's lady had improved his dress sense.

"Seeing Morgan at the Kennedy Centre last night," replied Emily.

"Oh it's a wonderful place, were you at the theatre or there for a concert?" Reid asked as he sat casually on the edge of his desk.

"We managed to get last minute tickets for a Copeland concert and saw Emily and George," replied Morgan feeling very pleased with himself that he could talk about such an incident.

J.J. smiled and turned to Emily, "So you and George are still seeing each other…this is getting serious?" she said light-heartedly and the men saw Emily just confidently smile.

"My mother has somehow got to know and now we are invited to one of her dinner parties," Emily pulled a face as she shared this with the blond.

Then J.J. turned on Morgan, "So are we allowed to know who you were with or is this private?"

"Hardly private, Emily saw us and I introduced her to Angela," he said with a distinct smugness to his voice.

"So what does Angela do?" Jareau probed, preferring to get the information out of Morgan but if he wanted to keep things off limits she would have just waited until she was alone with Emily.

"Angela is a kindergarten teacher and she lives in Dale City," Morgan seemed happy to share the details.

Reid said nothing but just quietly picked up the information and filed it all away in his memory. It was good that Morgan had met someone who he felt confident enough to introduce to Emily and the added bonus was that she liked music other than disco. This was definitely someone different to his usual companions.

"You've been keeping this quiet, Morgan," Jareau teased, knowing that she could safely do this with the man because he obviously wanted to tell people about her.

"Yeah, well I just couldn't believe my luck that she wanted to see me again…She's really nice…" and then stopped as he suddenly felt a little embarrassed with how he was enthusing about the woman. Morgan had not dated anyone like Angela before and he was optimistic that this might last a while. It was strange but he felt in control of this relationship and he thought Erroll Hart would approve of her.

"So did you have a good weekend?" Emily asked her fellow agent.

"Yeah, Simon took me to a cabin on Lewis Mountain. It was great weather for walking and just relaxing away from the hustle and bustle of our usual life," J.J. said wistfully, "Wish we had longer but a weekend away was great and I was not on call because I'd covered for Harrison last month."

Three sets of eyes turned towards Reid and he saw a mixture of apprehension and curiosity in their looks. He raised his eyebrows questioningly wondering who would ask, he surmised one of the lady's and saw J.J.'s beautiful eyes twinkle mischievously.

"Is it off limits?" she quietly asked, remembering the conversation overheard with Morgan in the kitchen over a week ago.

Reid shrugged, "I spent a quiet weekend with Jo, we went riding on Saturday and had a family lunch on the Sunday," he said and didn't elaborate, but the two women felt they had breached the wall he had erected around his private life.

"I didn't know you could ride," Emily blurted out in surprise.

"I'm from Las Vegas of course I can ride," he stated as if Emily was from another planet.

"Good morning!" a cheerful Gideon announced and stunned the agents into silence as he marched through with a smile on his face but didn't stop to explain.

"Well, I guess Gideon had a good weekend too!" said Morgan following the older man with his eyes as he sprang up the steps to his office.

"O.K. People!" Barry announced suddenly standing before the agents, "Now I've got a pile of requests so the sooner you start…"

Jareau turned and made her way back towards her office but she felt the feel of the group had been good and she had not felt that for a long time.

Hotch was pleased that the team seemed to be relaxed with each other again in the department and even Gideon had seemed cheerful, it was just himself that was the problem. He worked through some basic admin and then decided to go and see if Max was about.

The Unit Chief was relieved when he saw Max Pentall's door open. He just felt that he needed someone outside the team for this. As he approached, he could see Max typing away at his keyboard and thought perhaps he shouldn't disturb him but, as he hesitated, Max looked up. The psychologist smiled and stopped,

"Hotch, come on in…Help yourself to coffee while I save this file."

Hotch closed the door and took up the invitation. When he turned round he saw that Max had already gone to sit on the couch with his own half-drunk coffee.

"Now what can I do for you?" Max asked in a soft voice and Hotch wasn't sure how to begin with what was on his mind.

Max noted the unusual hesitancy and further observed the tenseness even as he held the mug and the lines around his eyes looked deeper.

"I really just need to talk to someone outside the unit," he said bluntly and found only understanding in the man opposite him.

"I'm listening Hotch, is this work or personal?"

"Personal, but it could affect work…It already has earlier…It's not me, it's Hayley…" he said and then took several sips of the good coffee Max made in his office. He sighed and plunged into an explanation of his emotional turmoil…

"Max she had another miscarriage at the weekend and I really think she's getting obsessed again about having another child…"

"How many miscarriages has she had?" Max asked gently aware that this man was distressed and didn't want his department to know the reason why, not even Gideon.

"There were twelve before Jack was born and she has had two more in the past 6 months, the most recent on Friday evening. They are always between 11 and 13 weeks and …Well she has always wanted two children and she just won't listen to reason Max. We have a lovely son but she has got it into her head that this is her goal in life…it's all getting out of proportion…" He found he couldn't go on. Perhaps he was being a traitor to Hayley by speaking like this but, deep inside him, Hotch felt that Hayley was tipping into clinical depression.

"I'm very sorry to hear of your fertility problems because it's not just Hayley who's suffering…you are too. Is she under a specialist?"

"Oh yes, Grant Waugh, but his partner, Dr. Greenley, dealt with her this weekend. He was very caring but I got the feeling that he thinks Hayley's previous history and her age are against her this time. It's that I'm worried about, she obsessed about having her own child before Jack and I thought all would be all right when he was born and that we should just treasure what we had. I mean there are couples who want children and never even get pregnant but she just doesn't see things like that," explained Hotch and then hearing it said out loud thought how selfish Hayley sounded.

"And you are happy to enjoy your son?" Max gently probed.

"Yes…Jack's our little miracle but Hayley doesn't see it that way and I'm afraid in her obsession she's going to neglect Jack's welfare. I really don't know what to do for the best," Hotch confided.

"Hayley is no doubt very sensitive to discussing the matter at the moment but you are right to think in this way. Like you said, before she was in her 30's but now she has reached that difficult decade when a woman's fertility drastically declines along with the quality of the eggs she produces. I'm sure your doctor has tried to explain the odds are not in her favour…"

"Oh yes, but Hayley didn't want to hear what he was saying…" answered Hotch in a flat and tired voice.

"Your fear is that she is going to be so obsessed that she becomes unstable?" Max asked gently and Hotch couldn't find his voice to answer and had to nod, fighting back the emotions he had been suppressing for 6 months.

"It's the obsessive 'only this matters' that worries me Max, I never thought I would see that ever again but it's back. Before when I was working on the diplomatic cover and in SWAT, her sister kept an eye on her. When I got transferred to Seattle, I wasn't away as much as I am now, and then she became pregnant with Jack when I moved to the BAU. I'm worried about Jack, what am I going to do about our son if she starts to neglect him because she slips into depression?"

"Did she get clinically depressed before Jack was born?"

Hotch nodded, "About three years before she conceived Jack…We had just moved to Seattle. Her doctor there thought it was all to do with moving away from her family support network but I wasn't convinced with his opinions."

"Would you like me to make some discrete enquiries and find out who might be helpful for Hayley to talk to. A counsellor with experience in this area, especially if a woman, might be able to help Hayley come to terms with her own waning fertility and the appreciation of the child you do have," Max offered, his mind already thinking of his wide circle of professional contacts. Infertility and its accompanying emotional turmoil, for both the woman and her partner, affected all walks of life. It always amazed Max that capable women agents didn't think that they could experience distress over fertility problems just like the rest of the population of childbearing women. Nor was it the first time that he had heard a man talk about the problems of infertility and the effect upon the relationship with their partner.

"Would you, I'd appreciate that…I really don't know what to do for the best…" Hotch confessed.

"But you are trying to find help Hotch by reaching out to others to share your distressful problem and I will try to find someone suitable for your situation. This is just between us two," Max assured, "You can come and talk to me anytime because I don't want you bottling up your worries about your home situation…You have enough to stress you out on the job…"

"Yeah, and I don't want to burden anyone one on the team with this," he said thankful for Max's discretion.

Tuesday morning found the BAU team timetabled to be working on profile requests after a scheduled 8 a. m. team meeting to discuss the feedback from the San Francisco arsonist case. Such debriefings could sometimes highlight problems that team members had experienced. Also as a group, they could discuss aspects of the team's working practice that could be improved or note the things that could be employed in other situations. They did not experience many serial arsonists so Hotch wanted to have this team session for the whole group and not just for Prentiss as part of her training. However, 20 minutes into the discussion, Prentiss looked out of the window into the bullpen area and saw her mother.

"Excuse me…" she had said and went to find out why Ambassador Prentiss had come to her place of work. Emily always felt apprehensive when she saw her demanding mother and, as usual, found herself putting up an invisible barrier against any critical arrows the older woman might aim at her.

A few minutes later, the Chernus women and the Ambassador were explaining about the urgency of their unannounced appearance before an annoyed Hotch, who was trying his best to be diplomatic with Ambassador Prentiss. The Ambassador had trampled all over the normal protocol channels just because Mrs. Chernus's brother had worked for the Ambassador in Kiev. But Hotch could see that he was going to be grovelling before the Baltimore field office that should be dealing with this kidnapping case. However, the deadline for midday and a severed ring finger galvanised the team and the jet was ordered to take Natalya Chernus along with Reid, Gideon and Morgan on the short flight to Baltimore.

Meanwhile, Hotch had fences to mend while he informed the Baltimore office of his agents' imminent arrival and Prentiss remained at base with Hotch to glean whatever they could from the victim's wife. The Ambassador went to try and pull strings to get access to the Russian banking system because the kidnappers wanted the ransom wired to a Russian account. Prentiss tried to make small talk with Mrs Chernus while they found a Russian translator but she felt that Hotch was using her as an intermediary with her mother. Emily felt embarrassed at how her mother had just hijacked the BAU at her bidding. She knew that her boss had to smooth some ruffled feathers in Maryland with phone calls behind his closed office door.

In the space of a few hours the young Natalya Chernus effectively played the team and the three agents, who had accompanied her to Baltimore, were annoyed with themselves for being duped. However, in the end, they did get back the victim even if the FBI had to rely upon the local Russian Mafia boss to deal with the matter and officially no crime was committed.

Despite the outcome, Gideon had enjoyed working closely with Reid again and marvelled at the way he soaked up the details Agent Kramer had supplied about the Russian mob in his area. Gideon sat on the plane watching the earnest young man typing up his report and knew that he was well on the way to being an excellent profiler and practising psychologist if he chose to lean that way later. Gideon thought how much more confident Reid seemed in himself and the tendency to blush was disappearing alongside his new stability. Reid would still talk at a fast pace when excited and sometimes he'd stutter as the mind raced ahead of his verbalisation of thought. However, the past year had seen the emergence of the potential that Donovan had always seen and had persuaded Gideon to nurture for the greater good.

Derek Morgan dozed in his plane seat. He was feeling annoyed that he had been fooled by the manipulative Chernus daughter and he decided not to think about her possible fate, although Kramer had been pretty blunt about what he thought would happen to her and her accomplice. He closed his eyes and thought about the woman who had captured his attention all weekend and to his amazement he had not taken her to bed yet. Morgan was in new territory and was taking this slowly. Angela had been brought up properly and had never been a one night stand girl, in fact she had revealed that she had only had one serious boyfriend. It had been a relationship that had lasted over two years and she had not had a regular date for the past three years. Consequently, Derek was feeling he was someone special in Angela's life and didn't want to disappoint her. He thought he would take her some flowers tonight, perhaps pink and creamy white roses, he mused, he was sure that she would like those.

Spencer Reid tapped away on his laptop and thought about the odd case they had just been on or rather a case that didn't officially exist because a couple of criminals had led them on a merry dance. Reid had thought Morgan was going to smash the car chassis when he had J.J. check the cooler for the finger but, like the ear, it was found to be gone. They had stood with Kramer on the street, outside the Chernus house, and realised that Natalya had been lying all along…

"So we have a daughter who lied about how she discovered the crime, none of the missing body parts to prove anything actually happened, and a generic ransom note that mentions no names," Reid had summarised for the men.

What are you saying?" Kramer asked still trying to believe the wild goose chase they had been on.

"Natalya was part of this," said Gideon feeling like an old fool to have been taken in by an attractive young woman.

"How did I not see this coming?" said Morgan annoyed at himself as Gideon had specifically sent him to glean everything he could from Natalya in the home.

But Reid felt that Morgan should not judge himself so hard, "How could any of us, man? She sought us out. We were blinded by the fact that she trusted us, that we never considered not trusting her…"

Gideon thought how well Reid summed it all up, Natalya had fooled them all and they couldn't claim to be inexperienced agents.

But Gideon was going to find his answers, if only for his own peace of mind, and they had gone back to the Little Kiev restaurant to talk to Lysowsky.

"Why are you paying the ransoms?" Gideon had asked the morose Russian.

"I think I know. The account is in the name of Lyov Fulenko. Lyov's a man's name, a son's name. Vory v zakone… Never have a family of your own. No wife, no children…" said Reid and he knew, by the sorrow in the Russian's eyes, that he had hit the nail on the head.

But the most chilling moment came a few minutes later when Lysowsky announced,

"Chernus will be home in a few minutes. You should be there. He's going to need medical attention. Go…Go…" he had commanded them.

"What are you going to do?" Gideon felt compelled to ask.

"Vory v zakone. We take care of our own trouble…" he had replied and both Reid and Gideon knew that did not bode well.

Not the best of cases thought Reid as he typed up his report but he had enjoyed seeing Agent Kramer again and smiled ruefully at the memory of their first meeting, when Kramer had been trying to protect an undercover agent. It had been two years ago when he had come to the BAU to personally warn off Hotch and Gideon. Kramer had made a point of not coming alone to their department and was accompanied by several of his agents. But the show of strength on Kramer's part had the opposite effect on the profilers and the investigation continued. In the end, the two departments had worked together to save the undercover agent and to capture the very dangerous Vincent Perotta. Once working together, the BAU had come to appreciate Kramer's expertise and the difficult world in which he worked. Reid had made sure that he acknowledged, in his report, the detailed information Kramer had given to him to help with the Chernus case.

When they got back to the office, Hotch had congratulated everyone and said that what mattered was that Mr. Chernus was back with his wife and Kramer believed that the kidnappings would now stop. The fate of the kidnappers was not officially known but the case had not officially happened! The Unit Chief said that they could all go off home and make the most of an early finish.

Morgan grinned and picked up his car keys off his desk, "I'm going before someone tosses some more work my way…I've got some flowers to buy," he said happily to Reid.

Reid smiled back, "I hope for the lady who lives in Dale City."

"You bet…I'm telling you, Angela is something special," replied Morgan and he thought how good he had been feeling since taking Angela out.

"Well, have a good evening," Reid said and watched the happy man swagger off to the elevators.

J.J. came along, "Has Morgan gone home?"

"Yeah, Hotch said we could go…He was going to buy some flowers," said Reid helpfully and watched Jareau's eyes widen at the news.

"This is serious…I'm going to tell Garcia," and the amused Reid watched her disappear in the direction of Garcia's domain.

"Morgan gone already?" Emily said putting a file in her desk drawer and locking it.

"He was off to buy some flowers before going to Dale City," Reid informed her and again watched Emily for a reaction. Prentiss broke into a warm smile.

"Angela is very nice and far too good for Morgan, I hope he doesn't hurt her," she said quietly and seeing the intent look on Reid's face added, "She really is very sweet and intelligent and not the sort of woman you would normally associate with our Derek. You know what he's like…goes for the pretty extrovert with no strings attached…Well, Angela is quieter and not the sort of woman who would behave in a promiscuous way," Emily explained in a quiet voice so as not to be overheard.

"Perhaps the suspension has shaken him up and made him think about what he really wants. I know my time at the Clinic made me reflect upon my life. I came out of the experience realising that I wanted to find someone to share my life with because I'd felt so alone when kidnapped by Hankel."

Emily was taken aback with this unexpected revelation from his time away on sick leave. Reid was normally such a reserved person that she was speechless, not knowing how to reply.

Reid suddenly gave Prentiss a wide open smile and Emily felt that she was truly forgiven for her past trespass into his off duty world.

"I actually thought Hankel would kill me and that really does concentrate the mind on what you want out of life. I hope that Morgan has found a woman who can give him stability for his off duty times because that is what we all need in our job."

"Yes, it is, "Emily agreed and hoped that one day she would have the opportunity to introduce George to Reid and his Jo. She thought George would like the genius and she couldn't imagine Reid with a partner who was not sensitive and interesting like himself.

"Are you going home?" he asked.

"No, not straight away. I actually saw my Mom in a different light today and I'm going to have a meal with her and a chat because I think she's feeling lonely," Emily confided and Spencer Reid nodded his understanding. He thought that the Ambassador was a very strong woman who was difficult to please and that her expectations for her daughter had been impossibly high to the point that Emily felt that she couldn't do anything to satisfy her mother's standards. Ambassador Prentiss had put Emily in a very difficult position today by just barging in and expecting everyone to dance to her tune.

"I hope you have a good chat," replied Reid and he felt a little sad that it was something that he could not really think about doing with his own mother and he envied Emily the normality of sharing a meal in a restaurant.

"Yeah, there's always the first time and I hope we both come away with a better understanding of each other."

"Perhaps her age has tempered her demanding expectations," Reid said.

Emily looked at him surprised and then realised that this was a man who had seen a great deal in the brief meeting with her mother. Reid obviously appreciated some of her difficult childhood and that her adulthood had not been much different with her mother's demanding expectations.

"Yes, I think she's realising that the world might not need her like it has done in the past," Emily replied softly and wondered if she could empathise with the woman who had once held very high profile positions abroad, and had enjoyed representing her country, but now felt that she was forgotten.

"Perhaps she's just beginning to appreciate her daughter, who she doesn't really know because of her former positions, and now sees a chance to try and build a bridge before its too late." Spencer quietly suggested to the thoughtful Prentiss.

Emily stared at the younger man, his wisdom was way beyond his years and she could see that he had pointed to a possible way forward for her.

"I hope so, we only have one mother so I'd better do my part as well," Emily said with a smile, "I'd better get going or I'll be late, hope you have a good evening."

"Oh I will," replied Reid as he watched the tall elegant woman leave. He thought about his own mother and their odd relationship and contrasted it to the one he had with Margaret Petersen. He liked Margaret and wished he had a normal Mom who behaved like Margaret did with her children. Spencer sat at his desk and thought how fortunate he was to have known the guiding hand of Mrs. Bishop and now the warmth of Margaret, who treated him like one of the family. Spencer thought that he was one of the most fortunate men alive to have met with people who made up for his own lack of a normal family life when young and even now gave him the feeling of belonging.

"Penny for them!" Gideon said and Reid was startled back to the present.

"Sorry Gideon I was miles away, did you want something?"

"I wondered if you'd like to share a lecture with me tomorrow? We have some detectives who want a free session…you know ask about our old cases and how we tackled them…"

"Sure, if you think I would be of some use…"

Gideon looked at the young man and realised that he was genuinely still the unassuming Reid.

"Spencer I asked you because I want you there with me. You never know, in the future you might come across one of these detectives on home ground because they have asked for our help. You are always going to look young for your age so the sooner they realise that you're not a kid the better."

"Right, when is this for?"

"9:30 tomorrow morning, the course breaks up at midday because they have to travel back to their various states. We break off for coffee at 11 o'clock and that's when we can do some useful informal networking and that's good for the department and the FBI."

"No problem, does Hotch know?"

"He said it was all right with him but I had to ask you," replied Gideon with a twinkle in his eye, "He didn't want to force you if you preferred doing the profiling requests!"

Reid smiled back, " Now that's a real hard choice but I'll take the session alongside you."

Gideon grinned, "See you tomorrow, and get home to Jo!"

"Yeah, I'm going," the younger man assured and he reached for his leather shoulder bag.

"Bye, Spence!" J.J. called as she headed for the elevators, her cell phone in her hand ready to answer the insistent Glenn Miller ring tone.

'In the Mood,' thought Reid and very upbeat, just like J.J. tried to be. He looked over to Hotch's office and saw the door was open so he bounded up the steps.

He peered in to see his boss was filling his brief case so he tapped on the door. The Unit Chief looked up and was surprised to see Reid standing there.

"Something wrong Reid?" he asked wondering why he hadn't gone home yet like the other agents but then instantly knew the answer, the genius was waiting to speak to him.

Reid closed the door behind him and Hotch was instantly alert.

"Nothings wrong with me, I'm probably out of order but are you all right?" he asked and hoped that Hotch would not be annoyed for his enquiry.

Hotch was caught unawares, Gideon had not said anything to him but the youngest one of the team was also one of the most observant in his quietness.

Aaron Hotchner looked into old eyes that were steady and full of compassion. But Hotch was not sure how to handle this situation that he had not anticipated.

"The honest answer is there is something which is deeply personal but I've seen Max about it and I'd prefer to keep it between Max and I," Hotch replied truthfully hoping that he was not going to hurt the younger man's feelings.

Spencer nodded, "Fine, I just didn't want you hiding behind your boss image, not with our work."

"Reid…I didn't think anyone had noticed…"

"I've noticed an increasing tension with you since I returned and thought I was missing something on the politics side of things which I'm not very good at. Then there was my return and its problems, but you were very withdrawn into yourself yesterday and you disappeared for a short while in the morning…I knew you weren't with Strauss because she was giving a talk to some new recruits. But as long as you have someone to talk with, I'm going home now," he said and turned to go.

"Reid," said Hotch and the young profiler turned back to face his boss, "Thank you for caring…it's nothing to do with work…all right?"

Reid smiled and nodded, "Goodnight then."

"Goodnight, see you tomorrow," said Hotch to the retreating agent and he hoped that Reid would understand that in this matter he needed to talk to an older man. However, it did reassure Hotch that the young man had a finger on the pulse of the team but at that moment he couldn't confide in Reid about his home situation.

Three hours later, Spencer lay on his leather couch holding his beloved Jo close and thinking about the day, and any other random thoughts that surfaced, as the Bach violin partitas played. They both loved the music of Bach and to Reid this was one of his favourite ways of unwinding at the end of the day. He had played his lute earlier but then wanted to hear these pieces which always reminded him of his father and the happy times they had spent together. It all seemed so long ago now but he was more at peace with his memories these days.

Jo suddenly moved, "Gotta go to the bathroom," she whispered, "Do you want a drink or anything while I'm up?"

Spencer shook his head. He let his thoughts meander again. He was pleased that Hotch was confiding in Max and hoped that all was well. He liked Hayley and they seemed well suited, then he wondered if their son was all right…Morgan had been happy and Prentiss seemed to like Angela. Reid hoped that Morgan didn't just end up manipulating a nice woman, but perhaps Erroll had finally got though to Morgan and this was the start of a more sensible and emotionally mature man emerging. Emily seemed happy too and Gideon had been quite upbeat despite the Baltimore case. Now that case had been nasty but he decided that Kramer was happy with the outcome and it was best to accept that agent's expertise in this matter. There was nothing the team could have done for Natalya Chernus and Lyov Fulenko because her father would have denied anything had happened even if the FBI had caught them.

Suddenly there was a waft of jasmine perfume and Jo was back and he smiled at her, thinking his own home life was one of contentment and he hoped that it would remain this way for many years to come.

"What?" Jo whispered a little puzzled by his enigmatic smile.

"Just thinking how happy I am," he replied simply and he saw her smile deeply at the admission.

"Scary isn't it…I'm almost afraid to admit it to myself in case it just all disappears, or it's all too good to be true and I'll wake up to find these past months have been a dream to cruelly tease me…"

"Oh Jo!" Spencer said and reached to pull her close to him and her cold left hand touched his shirtsleeve. He remembered how fragile she had been recalling the boyfriend who had not even tried to cope with her injury. "For the first time in my life I feel so completely happy and you and your family are all part of this feeling…they accept me, the geeky genius with the difficult childhood, I don't know how to say thank to you all…"

"But you don't have to say thank you…You were Craig's friend first and then you were gathered into the family because of our relationship…You are silly at times Spencer, but this is what happens with families, they accept their children's partners when they see that they work…"

Spencer thought about her words and then the question bubbled up, "Did your family like Luke?"

Jo raised herself up a little to look him in the eye, "Melinda and Craig never said anything to me against him but his behaviour after I was attacked really shocked them and my parents…Well if you want to hear what they thought…be prepared for a tirade. My mother is very easy going and was always welcoming to Luke but she took it as a personal insult how he behaved after I was hurt. But then so many of my New York friends disappeared off the scene at the same time because they couldn't cope with the reality. I was once one of the beautiful people who had a successful existence and then all that was suddenly gone and my charmed life was redefined. Suddenly I grew up knowing who were my real friends. I don't miss New York, they can have their superficial lives, I have something more precious back here in Virginia and know how special life can be."

Spencer hugged her knowing that she was just as sensitive as he was and could still feel her pain at the memory of the social circle that had disappeared along with Luke.

He reached up and took her damaged left hand and deliberately brought it to his lips and kissed the fingers unafraid of the lack of warmth on the skin.

"Luke was a fool and had no idea how to appreciate your true beauty," Spencer said thinking about the wonderful sensitivity that she revealed in her response to music, art and nature and then there was her warmth towards people who came into her circle. All of this was priceless and had nothing to do with physical appearance because to Spencer the inner beauty of the soul was a person's true being.

Black eyes stared back at him, enormous and vulnerable, and Spencer thought his heart would explode with the surge of emotion he felt for this woman. This was love and he never wanted to loose this feeling, to share so much vulnerability and yet to feel so strong together at the same time.

Meanwhile, in a small apartment in Dale City, Angela Ferris had just closed her door after an unexpected visit by Derek. She felt amazingly alive with this man, so unlike any other she had known. But then she had to admit to herself that she had not known many boyfriends, but Derek was special and she had to calm herself down because she had never had such a vibrant connection with a man before. They shared an interest in literature and he was interested in the theatre, and even shared similar interests in music. He seemed a little disappointed when she had initially confessed to not liking discos and was a hopeless dancer but he soon found something that they could do together. They had both attended college on full scholarships and had done well for themselves and had also been the first in their families to have a higher education.

She looked at the vase standing on the small pine circular table that served as her place to eat and her desk. Angela's laptop was closed and placed to one side but the clear glass vase dominated the room with the scented roses he had brought with him. Two dozen flowers, a mixture of pale pink and creamy white perfectly formed roses. Angela had never been given roses before and these were obviously expensive blooms. The very colours were thoughtful, not the obvious and over used red, but he had understood her love of pastel shades and they blended in perfectly with her colours in this apartment. Angela had turned him out at 10 o'clock because she had to be at school by 8 a.m. and on school days she needed her sleep, but it had been a wonderful surprise to see him at her door.

Angela went to the compact kitchen area at the end of the living room, it was nothing special just beech fronted shaker style units with a black countertop, and she washed up the mugs and plates they had used and her eyes looked back to the roses. She couldn't believe he had finished early and driven to see her after stopping off to buy flowers on the way. He had ordered a Chinese take away for them to share and they had talked for three hours; it was wonderful to have met such an interesting person. Unfortunately, some people thought that because she worked with young children that her interests couldn't be very demanding or deep. It had been the same when she was training, the students training for the High School sector were thought of more highly than those in the elementary. Angela thought that it was so ignorant of people not to recognise the importance of her work with young minds.

It was a tiny apartment, just three rooms, but it was in a safe area and affordable and she had decorated it simply to give a sense of space. The living room had magnolia walls and the window had plain pale blue drapes while the kitchen window had a blue and white polka dot roller blind. Angela picked up the vase of roses and took them with her into her bedroom and placed them on the tall chest of drawers. The colours went well with the pale lavender walls and white furniture in this small room which could just fit a queen-sized bed, chest of drawers and double wardrobe. The adjoining white bathroom had a lavender roller blind in an attempt to have some continuity of colour and add a sense of warmth to the clinical white.

Angela removed her clothes and carefully folded and put things away. She was a tidy person and had to be in her tiny apartment because it could very easily look a mess if things were not put in their assigned place. She went and quickly showered and put on a simple white cotton night-dress before getting into bed from where she couldn't keep her eyes off the roses and felt tingly inside. Derek was 10 years older than she was but he had a very responsible position with the FBI so he must be trusted. He had been so charming when she had first met him and they had inevitably asked about each other's work. Derek had quietly got out his black leather wallet that contained his ID which showed his photograph, agent number and that he was a member of the Behavioural Analysis Unit. Angela had felt out of her depth and said that she couldn't prove that she was a kindergarten teacher and Derek had flashed a wonderful smile and she thought she was going to melt into the ground. He just seemed so nice and he was interested in her, which was something that amazed Angela. She had always considered herself a quiet unassuming person and the sort of woman that handsome professional men, like Derek Morgan, wouldn't notice.

Angela took a final look at the roses and turned off the bedside lamp in an attempt to get some sleep. She didn't sleep that well but it didn't seem to matter, her colleagues all thought that she looked full of smiles the next morning and the older women on the staff wondered who he was. Angela had no idea when she would next see Derek. He had warned her about his erratic work schedule and how it put a strain on relationships. She thought this bluntness on his part was refreshingly honest and she hoped that she would be able to cope with the time before they saw each other again.

End of Chapter 27.


	28. Chapter 28

The In-Between Times: Chapter 28

by Helena Fallon

**Reference will be made to 'Open Season'.**

**(I have done my own internet search to check my facts about the hunting season in Idaho, although the show implied that this occurs in the Spring, the hunting season begins in August and ends in January. For my part, I have always thought of this taking place in late September.)**

Jennifer Jareau felt sluggish and it was only 8:15 but she made her way to the kitchen in the hope that yet another mug of coffee would help. She could see that Reid had draped his brown corduroy coat over the back of his chair and his leather bag was beside his desk but he was not in the bullpen area. As she approached the kitchen she could see that he was there with Gideon but they both looked relaxed so she didn't feel awkward at interrupting them with her presence.

"So you were riding in the Monongahela National Forest and you saw the deer…"

"Yeah, we were just taking it gently because we didn't know the area that well and it's so beautiful anyway…Horseback is a great way to get around and the hire rates were very reasonable…" said Reid taking a sip of his coffee.

"'Morning," said J.J. and both men acknowledged her greeting.

She reached for the jar of coffee and two pairs of eyes watched her with sympathy.

"Burning the candle at both ends?" asked Gideon with amusement in his voice and twinkling eyes.

"Wish it was…" she quipped and then saw both of them instantly switch on their psychology masks. There were two pairs of sympathetic brown eyes concentrating upon her and she felt like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. J.J. knew that they were both now in alert mode and neither would settle until she had explained her remark.

"Nothing terribly serious, I just didn't sleep well because of the recurring nightmare about those dogs. I thought I was free of it …You know, I've not been disturbed by that nightmare for a couple of months …so I guess I was just feeling complacent that I was over it…" she tried to explain.

"I still get the odd nightmare, there is no particular trigger it just happens…It's like with the panic attacks when I'm amongst trees. It's more likely to happen when I can smell leaf mould as well but sometimes I'm fine and sometimes I'm not."

"But its not stopped you riding in a forest," said Gideon.

"No, because sometimes I'm fine and I don't feel sick and my heart doesn't race. I don't want the thought that it might happen to take over my life. Jo and I enjoy riding together and she knows how to cope with me and the feeling doesn't last long. Fortunately, the stables we've used for hiring our mounts seem to only supply horses with good temperaments…."

"You've had a panic attack while riding?" J.J. asked amazed… "I mean couldn't that be dangerous when on horse back if the horse picks up the rider's distress?"

Spencer Reid smiled gently at J.J., "I'm an experienced rider but, like I said, the hired horses are chosen for their steadiness and they are used to nervous humans…But when it happens I just stop and practice my calming regime and Jo is very tuned into my moods. She's usually by me quickly and helps to bring me through it by just quietly being there and saying, 'breathe deeply.' But it's never as bad as the ones I used to have at the Clinic...but they just happen unexpectedly. A few months ago, I was just out walking with her father and I had a panicky feeling for a couple of minutes but he understood and didn't make an issue of it. We were with Jo's 4 year old niece when it happened one day, just walking through a park, along a path we usually use…Little Lydia was very sweet and held my hand and said that she was going to let me have her pocket teddy to carry to help me get home!"

"Oh Spence!" J.J. said with a smile and realised that he hadn't seemed embarrassed about talking about his experiences and the thought of a little girl offering her tiny teddy as a comfort was a warm gentle image. She noticed Gideon had smiled broadly at his revelation.

"You've been suffering panic attacks among trees!" Morgan's concerned voice suddenly said and J.J. was surprised because she had not noticed his arrival.

"I was just explaining to J.J. that, even after all this time, I can still have the unexpected nightmare and sometimes, if amongst trees, I can have a mild panic attack. But it doesn't happen every time so its all unpredictable…" Reid said shrugging his shoulders as if to emphasise that it was no real problem.

Gideon thought how sensitive it was of Reid not to make any allusion to J.J.'s nightmare but to take Morgan's attention totally upon himself. The older man was very aware that the Mental Health team thought a great deal of Reid's potential and this particular incident was an example as to why they would like him to join their ranks. The senior profiler thought how much Reid had grown up since the Hankel incident, which could have totally destroyed his confidence, but Max Pentall's people had done a great job with him at the Clinic and he was confident enough to use his experience to reach out to others. But what was also very telling was that Reid had the confidence to reveal this experience to Morgan who had in the past been an agent who could border on bullying if he sensed a weakness. Gideon leaned on the counter top with his mug of coffee enjoying the confidence that Reid revealed in handling the situation.

"Your Lady copes with all of this?" Morgan asked genuinely interested.

"Yes, she's very understanding because she has experienced PTSD herself so her family are old hands aswell!"

"Wow!" said J.J. not expecting that snippet of information, "I mean what happened…erm..I don't mean to pry but…"

Reid gave a gentle smile to signal that no offence was taken, "Jo was attacked. She shared an apartment in New York with a friend who was murdered by her boyfriend and she came home unexpectedly and disturbed him. He attacked her and she fought him off enough to get out of the apartment but she then ran into the path of a car as she was trying to escape. She has defence wounds and she can no longer play her cello…"

"Jeez… Did they get him?" asked Morgan and Jareau's big eyes expressed her total attention.

"Yeah, but he didn't stay for the court case…he got stabbed in a fight while in Rikers so Jo didn't get her day in court, but perhaps that would have just added to her trauma anyway…"

"But she's all right now?" asked J.J. genuinely concerned for a fellow woman who had survived an attack.

"It was nearly 5 years ago now and she would probably tell you that the first couple of years were the most difficult but she also has a very supportive family…Gideon's met her," he suddenly said and Gideon beamed as both Morgan and Jareau turned to him.

"She'd put a spell on you Morgan…She's totally bewitched our Reid!" he said with laughter in his voice and Morgan was unsure how to respond.

"She's a witch?" he repeated and wondered just what had Reid got himself into.

"Gideon!" protested Reid but he was suppressing laughter.

"Morgan, she has very dark eyes so in a certain light you can see no difference between the iris and pupil…It 's quite bewitching as you can't stop yourself staring just to make sure that your eyes are not deceiving you…" Gideon elaborated.

"Wow! How unusual," J.J. said, "Do you have a photo?" she asked the genius.

"No, why would I have a photo at work?" he asked and seemed genuinely surprised by her question.

J.J. caught Gideon's gentle shake of his head that signalled his own disbelief at his reply. J.J. smiled too, they had managed to raise her spirits and it was re-assuring that Reid was still their quirky genius despite all the changes that had taken place.

"So you still seeing this Angela?" Jareau decided to take the subject totally away from her problems of sleep.

Morgan's handsome face broke into a broad grin, "Oh yes, now Angela is really a nice classy woman…Took me to New York just to see a play, a modern setting of the Merchant of Venice. I'm not sure that we liked Elizabethan English being spoken by Armani dressed New York City traders but it was an experience. She's a member of a theatre club and they go all over the place, they are an unusual mix of people."

Gideon was fascinated; Derek Morgan was beginning to have a calmer leisure time. Obviously being brought before the disciplinary board had had a very sobering effect and he was finally getting his life on a more stable track.

Suddenly Anderson put his head round the door, "J.J. you've got a call from South Carolina…"

"Sorry guys…I've got work to do…"

The three men watched her briskly walk away heading for her office.

"Oh well, I suppose I'd better answer some of those enquiries that are mounting on my desk," Gideon mumbled and took his coffee and made his way to the steps.

"Well, I came in here to make myself a coffee, " Morgan said reaching for the mug he liked to use and Reid headed towards his desk to tackle the requests Barry had given him. Another BAU day had begun and soon everyone was caught up in their individual work.

They had finished at 5:30 and the Garcia, Prentiss and Jareau had decided to go and have a female night out. Morgan had left after making a phone call to Angela to say that he was on his way and did she want to eat out, but Reid heard his voice sound happy at the thought that her cooking would stretch for two that night. Hotch left as soon as he could but carrying what looked like a bulging briefcase and Gideon bounced down the steps as Reid was tidying up his own desk ready for departure.

"Have a good evening," he said as he passed.

"And you Gideon," Reid replied and thought how positive Gideon had been the past couple of weeks and hoped that it would continue.

Spencer Reid got home about 30 minutes later to the smell of roasting chicken and the sound of Jo singing along to Mozart's Magic Flute. Hearing the Queen of the Night aria reminded him of Gideon's earlier remark about Jo being bewitching…

He walked into the kitchen to find her warbling away as she was checking the state of the vegetables in the saucepans.

"Oh hello!" she said breaking off.

"Don't stop…Queen of the Night…Gideon would be amused by that."

She looked a little bewildered trying to make the connections and decided that PMT was definitely affecting her brain function this evening.

"He would?" she replied unsure what had happened to elicit the remark but Spencer was already going through his post.

"Oh good," he said staring intently at a typed letter on good quality paper with a heading that Jo couldn't see from her position by the stove. He looked up and smiled happily her way, "My books published in a couple of months, they are going to start advertising it in the relevant journals."

"That's nice, are you going to give Max a copy as he was the one who thought your doctorate should be more widely read?"

"Yes, probably, I should get a few complimentary copies…The Bureau will expect one for the library…"

"Perhaps Morgan will read it!" she said in a teasing tone.

"No, I don't think it's the sort of thing he would like for bedtime reading…He likes lighter things to unwind to…"Spencer replied in a serious tone as he opened another letter.

"Spencer, I was trying to be funny…You know…like the last thing Morgan would read…From what you've said about him I can't imagine him reading that much."

"Actually he and Emily often talk books but I think at the moment Angela is taking over his leisure time," he said in a distant way as he stared at a hand written letter. Jo was alert to his change of mood and stood watching him, he reached with one hand for the back of a chair and then sat at the glass-topped table…Something was wrong and Jo instinctively moved to be near him.

"Is everything all right?" she asked unable to contain her curiosity at the sudden change.

Spencer looked up with his large sensitive brown eyes shining with sadness and she felt a need to touch him just to re-assure the man that he was not alone.

"What's wrong?" she whispered hoping that everything was all right with Diana but then knew that Bennington would have called the apartment or the Bureau if it were urgent. She chided her woolly thinking because this was an informal hand written letter so it couldn't be anything official but perhaps one of his friends…

"Another of us has decided that life was unbearably lonely being too different," he said flatly.

"What do you mean?" Jo asked softly watching him intently for clues, but all she was picking up from him was an overwhelming sense of sadness.

"We, the small band of genius intellects. People don't realise just how difficult it is to live in the real world feeling apart…Did you know that being classed a genius is not good for your health, serious depression is common amongst us and suicide is quite high among teenagers and through your 20's…"

Jo was alert, "What's happened?" she repeated.

He threw the letter on the table, "Another of the people I knew at Princeton committed suicide last week. Prof Donovan wrote the letter, you can read it if you like…" he offered but Jo just put her arm around his slender shoulders and hugged him.

"Was it a friend?"

"No, I never considered Delphine a friend, she was two years older than me and a very bitter and brittle type. Her parents had hot-housed her and sent her to the best schools and had supplemented that by home education. Her father had been a professor of engineering at Yale and her mother a gifted musician but not in the super league."

Jo nodded in understanding, the top very gifted musicians, who made a name for themselves on the world stage, had their own problems brought about by their status. But things were difficult if you were very good but not quite good enough to join the superstars. Jo had been a very good cellist but art was her passion. However, she had been offered music scholarships, which she had turned down preferring to follow the artistic side of her gifts. She missed playing her cello but it would have been an even greater devastation if music had been her livelihood when she was attacked.

"Did Mommy push her daughter to succeed where she had failed and Daddy pushed…what mathematics…and both lived through Delphine's successes?" Jo asked, succinctly summarising her thoughts, she had seen it quite often at the exclusive school she had attended. There were too many parents who had not quite made the grade themselves and wanted to live through their children's academic successes. She thought that she and her brothers had been fortunate to have been naturally able to pass the entrance exams without the hot-housing tactics that some of her classmates had been put through since toddlers.

"Yes…" the man replied distantly and Jo was worried about this odd mood.

"I don't understand why Prof Donovan has written to you if you were not close?"

"Oh, Donovan always kept a close eye on those with the genius label. Delphine had known Wes…he committed suicide while I was at Princeton…he was a true genius and independent thinker who felt totally alienated from society by his intelligence. Wesley was a wonderful mathematician and Delphine had been one of his research colleagues but she knew she was not as clever as Wes. She got drunk one night…the last Christmas I was there and I helped to get her home…She just kept rambling on how she felt a failure because she wasn't a born genius like Wes. Delphine hated her parents for all the pressure they had put her through as a child and it all meant that she didn't fit in. The other women hated her for her cold intellect, the men because she was often more intelligent than they were but she knew she was not a genius like …well me!"

"And you didn't like her?"

"No, I found her cold and self centred…Not like you," he suddenly switched on a smile but Jo was totally unconvinced by this mood change.

"So Donovan was just writing to inform you…Are you expected to attend a memorial service?" she asked still puzzled.

"I went with Donovan to Wesley's funeral but I'm not going to Delphine's memorial, it would be totally hypocritical of me. I didn't like her and it was mutual. Let's eat," said Spencer changing the subject and Jo wondered just what Delphine had done in the past for Spencer to say that. She gave him a hug and she found that he came to attend the carrots and broccoli while she got the roast chicken breasts out of the oven.

They ate their meal at the kitchen table but the mood was overshadowed by Donovan's letter, despite Spencer's attempts to get Jo to talk about how the Old Armoury project was progressing. After eating, Spencer disappeared into the living room and Jo heard the strains of Dowland through the open doors while she loaded the dishwasher. She left him for an hour to play his lute while she went over some ideas for the renovation of one of the houses that Fairfax Estates owned in Georgetown, but Jo was going to say what was on her mind.

She took a cup of his favourite Earl Grey tea with her and placed it on the walnut coffee table. He looked up from playing and smiled his thanks. She sat on the couch with him and waited until he had finished playing the 'Farewell'fantasie and he had taken a sip of the tea.

"Have you ever thought of suicide?" she gently asked him, her black eyes totally locked on his brown ones.

"Yes, several times over the years," he admitted keeping his eyes steady on hers, "The last time when I came home from the Clinic. I wasn't sleeping well and one night I dreamed about Wes, it was totally out of the blue, but I pulled myself together and I went shopping for furniture…"

"Do you ever feel depressed now?" she asked needing to know if he felt different about life now nearly 6 months further along.

He let a shy smile touch his lips, which made him look so young and vulnerable to Jo with his long curling hair and his slender build.

"No, I have you to come home to and a lot of things have happened since that re-awakened memory. Its just people don't understand just how apart being a genius makes you. In the academic atmosphere of Harvard and Princeton my high intelligence was easily accepted but the move to the Bureau was different. I spent so much of my time suppressing the real me to fit in, and not seem too cocky with my intelligence, that the people around me believed the image I was projecting in the BAU. I've just stopped doing that now, I'm trying to be myself more and that means accepting that I'm working towards being a senior profiler but I've still got a lot to learn. It can't be learnt from books, you gain invaluable knowledge in the field but it's at a price because of the work we do."

Jo reached across with her right hand to make physical contact and deliberately placed her hand over his. She kept her eyes totally centred on his long thin face, which was dominated by the enormous puppy dog eyes that always revealed the inner sensitivity of this man.

"I love you, I know I'm not as intelligent as you are but my whole family cares about you and that's what matters. You have to believe in us as the people you come back to after the horrors of your work. I know what it feels like to be depressed and not be sure if it's worth the effort trying to be with people anymore. I remember not being able to respond to those around me because of the intense inner hurt but I was so lucky to have my family, they kept me from destroying myself. But I also now know that I have given people pleasure through my music, painting and work. It's the same for you Spencer, you have wonderful gifts to benefit others and reaching out of yourself to share those gifts is what makes life worthwhile…What our civilisation relies upon really, the individuals who share their gifts for the greater good."

"Jeez Jo…you get all philosophical at the oddest of times…" he replied softly and reached across with his long thin arms to draw her close. "I've never known anyone like you," he whispered and felt his eyes water with the emotions tied up with the memories of Wes and the love for Jo. She snuggled against him and he just wanted to make the most of the closeness and reaffirm that they were very much alive. They had both walked along their own personal paths through the wasteland of black depression and reached a more colourful and welcoming land.

They had made love on the couch and again when they later went to bed. They were still lying snuggled together in the after glow of passion when Spencer's phone rang to summon him back to Quantico. He got reluctantly out of bed and dressed and kissed Jo chastely on her dark curls before leaving, both knowing that he might be gone for days.

When he got to the BAU, he met Morgan in the elevator and they both gave each other rueful smiles.

"Have a nice meal with Angela?" Spencer managed and began to feel that perhaps he had really scared Morgan off his private life, as he was reluctant to initiate conversations with him these days.

"Yeah, she had cooked roast chicken breasts,"

"Really! Jo cooked that tonight as well, must be a special offer at the supermarkets," Reid replied with a grin mentally calculating the odds that she cooked the same vegetables as well.

Morgan shared the look of disbelief, "Angela served up the chicken with sweetcorn and green beans," he stated.

"Jo did carrots and broccoli," Reid said as the doors opened and Gideon caught the sentence and gave him a bemused look.

Gideon shook his head deciding not to ask but noted that both men seemed to be working out a better relationship even if it included a conversation about vegetables.

The team assembled in the conference room and J.J. began her presentation about a possible serial killer. She began with the details belonging to a year ago and explained that there had been two missing victims from Washington State whose bodies had turned up over two hundred miles away in the remote forests of Idaho. The victims' cars had still not been traced. The victims had been identified as Courtney Jacobs, 24, and Shane Everett, 25, they were unrelated, both had similar entry wounds through the chest but no bullet casings had been found near the bodies. Then yesterday, another male victim had been found amongst rocks with similar chest wounds in the same forest wilderness but he had not yet been identified. The team found it disturbing that the first two bodies had been left in such remote areas that they had not been found for around a week. There did not appear to be any sexual interference and the killer appeared to unusually have no preference for the sex he killed. The team concluded from the other injuries on the victims' bodies that they had been running for their lives and were inappropriately dressed for the forest area they were found in.

Dawn had already broken as the small jet flew towards Washington State. It had been a long flight so far but, after everyone had tried to get a little sleep, they had been woken for a discussion on the case before they arrived. Jareau had gathered the information together in individual files for the agents and they sat mulling over the facts.

Reid was surprised that over a hundred people went missing in Idaho's vast wilderness every year and even more disturbing was that a third of the missing were never found. It all made for this area to be an ideal dumping ground but as Morgan pointed out, you would have to be comfortable in the rugged terrain to be able to bring the victims here and know where to go to hide the bodies.

Emily revealed that her grandfather had retired to the French Alps in the last decade of his life and had lived off the land, with no modern comforts, and had not come down the mountain during that time. She had visited him often so she could understand how easy it was to revert back to a more primitive style of living if they had an unsub who was really living in the woods.

Garcia contacted them with the results of her searches and shared the interesting fact that in Spokane County over the last 5 years there had been 10 missing persons, they and their cars had never been recovered. All these people were in their early 20s and all had disappeared around the same time of year. She also informed the team that the latest victim had been identified by his dental records and was an Alex Harrison who had been travelling to work in Spokane. Garcia also noted that last years victims had been travelling in the Spokane area too. She was checking the hotels in the area and requests for roadside assistance along the highways and interstate into Spokane….

"OK, we've got two locations," said the Unit Chief ready to divide his team to gather as much information as possible.

Gideon, who had been studying the map of the area, declared his preference, "I'm happy to go to Idaho. Woods is like your second home, right Prentiss?"

"Yes, sir," she responded and was interested that Gideon had specifically chosen her.

Then Morgan quickly chimed in, "Hey Reid, why don't you go to Spokane…I could use the fresh air!"

Reid and J.J. exchanged knowing smiles as they realised that Morgan was acting to prevent Reid from having to go into a deeply forested area. Jareau was pleased that Morgan had shown this kindness and Reid, who had been quite prepared to go where he was sent, was a little taken aback by this act of unusual sensitivity towards him. Reid thought that Morgan had obviously been surprised about his admission over still getting the occasional mild panic attacks.

"We'll touch base every couple of hours," Hotch assured the team.

Gideon nodded, "I'll call you when we get on the mountain."

Hotch left his seat and went to join Gideon who had been sitting at the back. Gideon folded up the map as he sat opposite and recognised a look of puzzlement in the Unit Chief's eyes.

Hotch leaned a little towards Gideon, "What was that about with Morgan?" he asked softly so as not to be overheard.

Hotch was suspicious because of Morgan's action, sometimes with his behaviour towards Reid there was a tendency to hide an undercurrent of teasing that sometimes bordered bullying. It was the one aspect of Morgan's personality that Hotchner seriously disliked alongside his womanising. Hotchner had always felt protective towards the victims of bullying because of all he had witnessed with his own father's violent and oppressive behaviour. Hotch had personally profiled Morgan as the spoilt only son who had longed to be one of the gang and accepted by his peers. Morgan's early behaviour towards Reid at the Unit had only confirmed these thoughts. Hotch further speculated that being a teenage star footballer probably meant that Morgan had in his past led the pack against some boy who was not as gifted at sport or just too sensitive to cope with the 'peer group' mentality of teenagers. Hotch hoped that his own son never suffered the indignities of teenage bullying but boys in a pack were totally different to how they could behave at home. But then he thought that girls had a nasty side too and they could be just as devastating if you crossed their path and didn't fit in. Hotch suddenly realised that Gideon was waiting for his full attention before he began his reply.

"Reid and I were getting our 'before work' coffees when J.J. joined us and admitted to having had a bad night with her 'dogs' nightmare. Reid told her how he still had nightmares and mild panic attacks when amongst trees, both without warning. Morgan had come in on the end of it and Reid had said that it was unpredictable and recounted a couple of times it had happened including a charming story about Jo's little niece, who gave him her pocket teddy to help him get back home."

"Hotch's eyes softened at the image but added, "Reid's OK isn't he, I mean, I thought he's been really handling things well considering all that has happened?"

Gideon leaned forward and kept his voice low,

"Reid had the confidence to give Morgan the impression that he had been solely talking about his own mild panic attacks and made no mention of J.J.'s original admission. He really is coping and shows an ability to use his experiences to help others understand that it's all normal post trauma stress. He has a very good relationship with the Petersen family who have all helped with the healing process but I'm more interested in Morgan's reaction. He has done something thoughtful by trying to help Reid avoid what might have been a stressful situation for him. In the past, Morgan might have teased Reid about trees and perhaps even made a reference to needing his pocket teddy after the story he told us…But he didn't, now that's Derek Morgan changing for the better. I think his sessions with Erroll Hart have made him think about his life and the image he has been giving people. Morgan was talking to me about his new girlfriend at the end of last week and he's obviously trying not to do anything that might jeopardise what he sees has something good."

"Well it's about time he stopped playing the playboy and had a more settled relationship. So what have you picked up about Angela?"

"She's ten years younger, an only child and father died after years of poor health when she was 19. She went to college on a full scholarship and trained as a kindergarten teacher and lives and works in Dale City. Morgan says she's got class…Morgan speak for not an easy lay!" The two men shared knowing looks and hoped that Angela was going to be strong enough to keep Morgan from straying back into his old ways.

"I hope this lasts because the disciplinary board was persuaded by Hart to give him a chance and he was foolish enough to cross Reardon," Hotch said remembering the bullish Morgan that afternoon which seemed an age ago now but was not in reality.

After landing, the two groups went their separate ways. Hotch was more than happy to be working alongside the two most sensitive members of his team because they worked so well together and he just soaked up the restful nature of these two agents. Neither had 'big ego' problems and despite Reid sometimes baffling local law enforcement officers with his wonderful abilities, he was not a strident person who would necessarily ruffle feathers just to appear superior. He was sometimes absentminded and could appear to be in another world when thinking about a problem but once he had an idea, Hotch loved to see the eyes light up and the hear the voice excitedly run away trying to keep up with his racing thoughts. The team tended not to let Reid drive, it had been an unspoken agreement amongst the group that Reid in thinking mode on a case probably should not drive them…just for safety reasons. Hotch liked to drive whenever he could and Reid never made any movement towards the driving seat.

The case had moved quickly especially when Bobbi Baird had been reported missing en route to Spokane. It was only 3 days since Alex Harrison had been murdered and the team realised that they had killers who were hunting down humans for sport. The weapon was narrowed down to a modern compound bow and by checking suppliers in the area for a specific type of arrow, the Mulford brothers had been caught in the net of suspicion. It was only a matter of time before they were sure that they had identified the unsubs. At the Mulford Service Station they had found the missing vehicles and Reid remembered the horror of opening a kitchen cupboard to find the numerous licences of people, just pinned to the inside of the door. The expiry date of the oldest licence went back to 1980 and that implied the brothers' uncle had been killing before he became guardian to the boys and he had taught them the sport.

Back in Idaho, Gideon and his colleagues were informed of two missing couples who had not reported in when expected and of the missing Bobbi Baird. To their horror they tumbled across the campsite and bodies of Joel and Taylor Brause but they still had Luke and Heather Hamilton and Bobbi Baird to find. In the end, Bobbi Baird had proved herself to have strong survival instincts and had beaten Johnny and Paul Mulford at their own game, but she had been the only survivor. It had been savage, but hunting is savage and the carnage even upset the seasoned Derek Morgan and the usually calm professional Prentiss.

The team came together again for the flight home and they each had their own tale to tell of the events as they waited for the jet to have clearance for take off. Agent Jareau talked about the young sheriff who had stepped into the shoes of a man who held the position for 30 years. But J.J. thought Raymond Schaeffer had the compassion and innate wisdom to learn quickly and that he would be an excellent holder of the office. It was an opinion that Hotch supported and he had been impressed with the way he had handled the local people and had helped in their part of the investigation. Before they had left he had made sure that his deputies also heard the praise he gave the young Sheriff and hoped that he would never have such a distressing case again.

Spencer Reid had spoken about the sense of shock amongst the community that knew the Mulfords. They had been on the margins of the society but the nephews had been seen as basically good boys even if the uncle had been known for his violent temper. The Sheriff had been eager to learn and was well respected even if he was young and Reid had discovered that he had returned home after college because he wasn't comfortable in the big city and enjoyed the natural spaces of Washington State. They had enjoyed sharing a meal and discussed Clark Norton, who had been a notorious murderer in the state, and Schaeffer had wanted to hear more about Reid's final interviews with him.

Morgan had said that the carnage of the innocent campers, who had just been caught up in the hunt of Bobbi Baird, just proved to him how arbitrary life was. Lizzie Evans, the experienced forest ranger who had helped them, had said that she had never seen anything like it, especially how the Brauses' had been strung up in the trees. He wondered if the news of it all would put people off visiting the beautiful forest area. The team had become silent for a few minutes thinking about that aspect of the crime; the area was so remote that it was one of the reasons for the killings going undetected for so long.

As the plane took off, Reid, Gideon and Hotchner all took to writing their reports. After an hour, Reid put his laptop away after emailing Jo that he was homeward bound and noticed Gideon on his own, staring out of the window, looking very sad. Reid went and slipped into the seat opposite him. The movement made Gideon look his way and he gave the young man a rueful smile and a questioning look.

"You all right?" Spencer got to the point using a soft voice and was prepared to go if his presence was unwelcome.

But Gideon did not push him away; he respected the approach of the sensitive young man who just might understand how he felt.

"Spencer, I was beside a young man this afternoon, he was only 22 and he died in a horrible way. It was such a waste, he had been brought up by his disturbed uncle and knew no better…It was so senseless, if he had been fostered out he might not have become the murderer he was. I think he really loved his older brother, poor kid pleaded with me.." and Gideon recounted the time….

"Don't shoot him! He's all I have," and the blood continued to pour from the stomach wounds. Suddenly Gideon realised that they had not stumbled across another innocent camper. Morgan and Prentiss had found the body of Heather Hamilton with a chest wound like the other victims, but this man had stab wounds not a compound bow injury.

"Is that your brother out there?" Gideon asked gently.

The young man did not have the strength to speak at that moment and nodded his head and the movement made him whimper.

"What's your name?" Gideon probed keeping his voice soft so as not to scare the man further.

The injured man gasped in pain and made the effort to speak, "Johnny," and Gideon felt his heart leap and tear at the same time.

"Johnny, you need to tell us where Paul is before it's too late…" and he reached to check his pulse on the neck. Gideon was not surprised to find it was very weak and knew that this young man would die before any medical help could get to him.

"Just tell me where he is…" Gideon asked but Johnny shook his head. Gideon kept his eyes focused on Johnny's and his voice soft and gentle as he set about wearing down Johnny's defences, "Tell me where he is…Johnny, just tell me where he is?"

Lizzie Evans stood and watched in amazement at the compassion that the FBI agent showed this cold-hearted killer. After what she had seen that day, Lizzie thought he deserved the life threatening wounds he had and even she could see that life was slipping away before her eyes. The agent's gentle persistence paid off and Lizzie radioed the direction to Morgan and Prentiss. A few minutes later they heard the sound of gunfire and Johnny cried out in his utter distress knowing the fate of his brother…

"No!" he had managed with failing strength.

Gideon sensed the life dying away with the blood oozing from his wound and mouth making his speech even more difficult to understand. But Gideon could not leave him to die in the heartless way the brothers had hunted and killed their victims. He squeezed Johnny's hand to re-assure him that he was not alone.

"It's OK, It's OK…It's OK …" he repeated this mantra to the dying man, who looked like a terrified boy as the fear of death emanated from him. Gideon would not lower himself to be an animal, no matter what Johnny had done, and Johnny would hear to the last a gentle human voice. It was like re-assuring a sobbing child but Gideon knew that with Johnny's every sob he was edging closer to his death. Johnny's whimpering began to quieten down and Gideon continued to smoothly whisper his assurance. Gideon stayed beside him until he drew his last breath and gently closed his eyes when the life had left them….

"I looked up at that vast sky and thought what a waste. Those two brothers had no chance of a normal upbringing, they had just slipped though every net…rarely saw a doctor, home schooled…all they had was each other and the people passing through who used the service station. They probably couldn't ever remember a woman being in their lives because they were so young when their parents died. God knows how their uncle had treated them, hunting their fellow humans was fun to them!" Gideon shook his head to clear his mind of the thoughts, "and then Bobbie Baird, poor woman…She survived but it's something that will haunt her for the rest of her life…."

Spencer had sat and listened without interruption knowing that this was therapeutic for the older man. Reid wondered if he possessed the emotional strength to have sat with the dying Johnny and to give such comfort to someone many would have thought undeserving. But his concern now was for Gideon, he had seemed to be happier before this case and now he hoped that he would be able to keep on the even keel that they all strove for.

"But you showed him compassion at his end Gideon, and that is the mark of a civilised man," Spencer said softly and his old mentor smiled at his understanding. Reid had a sensitivity that might get him killed one day in his desire to understand and prevent another senseless death, but Gideon hoped that Spencer's present relationship would ground him and help to give him the wisdom of where to draw the line.

"You told Jo you're on your way home?" Gideon suddenly asked deliberately changing the subject.

"Yeah, she keeps busy with her own work but likes to know when I'm on my way back."

"She's good for you, don't screw up!" Gideon said and Spencer was pleased to see humour once more shining from the older man's dark eyes.

"Yes…well I'm trying and so far it seems to be working…It's scary sometimes to think that this as lasted since April and Jo's the best thing to come out of my sick leave."

Gideon smiled broadly, he thought Reid deserved someone like Jo, "You know if I was 30 years younger, I would be giving you a run for her affections…"

Spencer grinned knowing that Gideon genuinely liked her and approved of their relationship. "Ah, but then that would mean you would have to disappoint your present Lady!" he immediately replied and Spencer had the satisfaction in seeing a surprised look on his old mentor's face.

"I'm that obvious?" Gideon whispered.

"I've worked with you a long time," Spencer said as justification, but was pleased that he had not been wrong in his reading of the older man.

"I'm sure your Jo is a witch!"

"You've got Morgan worried."

"So he should be…she'll put a spell on him if he misbehaves!"

Spencer grinned at the thought of Morgan and Jo…But Jo was a good judge of character and socially at ease, she would be able to hold her own at any function where she might meet other Bureau people.

"Have you told her you're homeward bound?" Spencer asked.

Gideon smiled, "You're going to be one hell of a profiler one day…and the answer is yes…Now leave me alone, I need to get some sleep."

Spencer filed away the rare compliment and slipped back into a seat beside J.J. She had been reading a magazine and had gone back to the puzzle page. He glanced over and saw that she had not attempted any of the crossword clues or the other literary quiz questions.

"I give up, it's very obscure, just up your street!" she said passing it over to him.

He grinned, "Mmm I like a challenge to help me unwind a bit," he said and reached inside his jacket for his ballpoint.

J.J. sat watching him as she twisted the ends of her hair trying to forget about the survival tactics of Bobbi Baird.

Prentiss sat across the aisle from them and one row back. Morgan noticed that Hotch was already curled up asleep and Gideon had also spread himself across his seat and had his eyes closed. He was struck by the pensive look on Prentiss's face as she looked out of a window and Morgan made his way to sit with her.

"You OK?" Morgan asked.

Prentiss sighed and looked at him.

"I've never seen you look so…" Morgan began and then searched for the right word.

"Quiet?" Prentiss suggested helpfully with a hint of ruefulness to her voice.

Morgan was unsure but he persisted, "What's up?"

"Bobbi Baird asked me a question that's sticking with me," she confessed.

"What is it?"

"She asked me how they could do it. How those men could hunt and kill people in the wood?"

"What did you tell her?" asked Morgan wondering if she felt that she had given the survivor the wrong answer.

"That they don't think like we do…But the truth is that we do think like them," she tried to explain and wondered if any of this was making sense to Morgan.

"Yeah, we do," he agreed, "Because it's our job, we need to know how it feels."

But Prentiss was not finished, "We hunt these people every day…the question is how different are we…us and them?" she asked with a tone of horror in her quiet voice.

Morgan nodded his understanding but he gave no answer, it was just their job. Prentiss closed her eyes but she kept seeing Bobbi standing over the dying Paul Mulford…

"Is he dead?" Bobbi asked Prentiss. Bobbi could still feel her heart racing from the chase.

"Pretty soon," Prentiss replied but she still held her gun on the man.

"How can these guys do something like this?" Bobbi asked trying to make some sense of her experiences.

"Because they don't think like you and me," Prentiss replied but she felt it a totally inadequate answer considering what this woman had endured.

Bobbi sat down beside her dying tormentor and vented her anger as she was still high on the adrenaline flowing through her veins.

"How does it feel you son of a bitch? Looks like I had all the fun!" she finished triumphantly.

Paul Mulford's eyes rolled back and he died. Prentiss was speechless at her vehemence but she could understand it on another level. How would she have felt if she had been hunted like a wild animal and in order to survive had to become a vicious hunter too?

Bobbi Baird had got up and walked away knowing that she had beaten them, but Prentiss wondered at what cost to herself because she had also seen 4 others who had been slaughtered during the chase.

Emily tried to cut herself off from the images and summoned up her memories of the previous weekend with George and with them a sense of love and security. She would call him when she got home; perhaps they would be able to see each other tonight to take her mind off this case.

Spencer had completed the crossword and given it back to J.J. He had overheard Emily's words to Morgan and his lack of depth in his reply. Spencer closed his eyes and thought about Prentiss. She had obviously wanted this placement and was working hard to prove her worth but she was finally realising that the personal price of being part of this elite team was high. The best profilers had to use their empathic skills to get inside both the unsubs' and victims' heads to do the job and then be able to come back to normality. This was the very reason why you had to have a stable and interesting off duty life to keep the balance, otherwise you would be dragged down by the darkness of the evil minds you came across. He let his own mind meander upon the amusing thought that Gideon likened Jo to a witch…he could see his point about her eyes.

Morgan let his own eyes close and he thought about Angela. He was supposed to see Erroll Hart again soon for a follow up session but at least this time he would have something positive to report and he was trying hard with this woman. There was something comforting about sharing her evening meals and her small apartment had a homely feel that left his own feeling cold to him now. It was all beginning to finally have a real meaning to him about having 'a woman's touch' in your life. He felt in the few weeks that he had known Angela that she was awakening a side he had suppressed for years, afraid that if he showed it to people they would take advantage of him. However, he didn't feel Angela would take advantage because she was far too sweet in her dealings with people and had really had a very strict and sheltered life compared with his own sisters. He would be seeing her again this evening and hoped one day soon to introduce her to his dog…now he had better like her!

End of Chapter 28


	29. Chapter 29

The In-Between Times: Chapter 29

**by Helena Fallon.**

**(Author's note: My apologies to my regular readers but I have not been very well recently following two falls and I have had to take the time out to recover.)**

Reference will be made to 'Legacy'

Morgan walked into Erroll Hart's room feeling so much happier than when he was here last. Strange what a few weeks could do to one's perception of life and your place in the world. He had accepted Erroll's invitation for coffee before settling down on the black couch. His eyes once more caught the watercolour of New York.

"You like that painting don't you?" Erroll said with humour touching his deep voice and when Derek turned to face him was not surprised to find Erroll's face lit up with a warm smile.

"Yeah…it's vibrant…something you don't always find in a watercolour…Sometimes they can seem so flat…but this…it's captured the energy of the city."

Erroll sipped his own coffee and nodded. "You told me that you didn't really understand art but you obviously understand that painting…I bought it because of the reasons you expressed. JEM is a very talented artist and his, or maybe it's 'a her', I don't know…does some very interesting landscapes in different mediums and styles. I'm glad I bought that but my insurance for it has increased because the artist is getting a following."

"Didn't you say that JEM was a Virginian?"

"Yes, I had hoped to buy another, it was an oil painting of quite a modern composition of a seascape from Virginia Beach. It was of the morning mist on the water…it was wonderful, I felt I could smell the air when I looked at it. However, I made the mistake of not putting a retainer on it and the next week I went back it was gone," Erroll explained, "I vowed to my wife if I ever saw another JEM I liked I'd buy it…."

"And she agreed to this?"

"Not exactly when I told her that I was prepared to pay over 700 dollars for a painting for my study…"

Morgan's eyes widened, he liked his large black and white photographs on his walls at home but in no way had they cost that amount. Then he remembered Erroll had said that Reid was the proud owner of a couple of JEMs…well that explained where he spent some of his money!

"Now lets get down to business," Erroll suddenly said, "What have you been up to? It has got back to me that you have met someone…"

Morgan couldn't stop the grin, "Yeah, I didn't think Angela would get back to me but I got home after a case to find a phone message…She's a member of a theatre club and she's quite a reader."

"Tell me about her back ground…" Erroll invited but he sensed he really didn't need to ask because this man had obviously met someone who had made an impression on him and he just had to sit back and listen.

"Angela's 26 and a kindergarten teacher. She was raised in Hartford, Connecticut. Her Grandfather was a Baptist Minister and they worshipped at his church, Dad was a telephone engineer and Mom a doctor's receptionist. Angela's Dad died when she was 19; he'd been suffering from Leukaemia for several years and for the last couple of years hadn't been able to work. But Angela got a full scholarship to college and studied towards qualifying as a teacher…She's got her Masters and she's Montessori trained," said Derek proudly and Erroll smiled and nodded his understanding and encouragement. "Anyway, after her Dad died her Mom came to Virginia to live with her widowed sister. They live in Rose Hill, you know, just a few miles from Alexandria. Her Aunt and Uncle had been teachers but they had no children so Angela has a very small family and with no cousins she was doted upon as a child."

"Where does she live?" Erroll asked.

"Dale City and works in a private school there…Angela is very nice and steady, not like any woman I've known before," Morgan admitted and Erroll Hart thought that it was about time that he found someone to steady him.

"Have you met her Mom and Aunt?"

"We dropped in last Sunday afternoon. Angela was adamant about not telling them beforehand because she didn't want them to make a fuss. They are two lovely ladies who keep themselves busy with a variety of charity work. They do a regular session with one of the Homeless Shelters in Alexandria; they help with the cooking side of things. Angela's Mom and Aunt made us very welcome and next time I'm home we're supposed to be having Sunday lunch with them."

"Have you told your Mom about Angela yet?"

"Yeah, I rang her and said that I'd met someone nice and I'd send a photograph…"

"You got a photo with you?" asked the interested Erroll.

"Oh yeah, I'm not like Reid," he replied and reached a hand into his jacket to bring out his wallet…

"So what's this about Reid?"

"Oh Gideon was telling J.J. and me about Reid's ladys' eyes…so J.J. asks him if he had a photo and our genius looked at her as if she was from another planet…Gideon just shook his head at him, you know the look that says he's our genius but! Anyway, this is my Angela," he said proudly and handed Erroll the smiling image of an open friendly face. She was a clear skinned young woman who looked like she had the paler brown colouring of milky coffee and straight thick black hair that fell to her shoulders but was pinned back at each side so it did not flop over her face. There was something neat and warm about the woman in the image, the eyes looked at you in total trust and Erroll thought that this was a very sweet and gentle woman staring back at him.

"Derek, she's lovely…Don't you dare break her heart," he said in mock severity and Morgan grinned.

"I know she's something special and I'm trying not to screw this up…I'm going real slow…"

Erroll wandered along the corridor towards Max's office. He had had a busy day but he thought he would just keep Max informed about Morgan.

"Come in and sit down…You can have 10 minutes," Max said who always amazed Erroll how he managed to juggle meetings and informal chats alongside timetabled psych sessions. Max was a good boss and the Mental Health department all appreciated his hard work and the personal contact time he made for his staff in a full schedule.

"Derek Morgan's got himself a very nice lady and it seems to be lasting…at least he's making the effort. My sessions with him have gone home and he seemed very pleased with himself...She's a teacher and sounds stable…probably too good for him so I hope he keeps making the effort…But he's met her surviving relatives and it sounds as if he's charmed the women…"

Max listened, and raised his eyebrows, which spoke volumes to Erroll.

"Well let's hope it continues and he doesn't screw up, perhaps she'll tame his wild ways," said Max but there was something about Morgan and how he treated women that Max didn't like. Perhaps it was because Hotchner certainly didn't like his flirtatious ways, which he had mentioned in his reports when he had censored the agent's inappropriate behaviour in the work place. Max knew that Hotchner was a stickler for decorum when dealing with women both in the office and in the field.

"I'm going to give him that chance Max, he admitted to me that he's not felt so protective towards a woman who wasn't family and he's enjoying Angela's warm home, compared to his own."

"So Angela's reaching the part of Morgan that he's kept hidden deep down. Morgan's scared of that emotional side because he doesn't like to admit caring for people just in case it's seen as a weakness and used against him," Max replied thoughtfully, "Well I hope it continues and he doesn't just use her Erroll because he has quite a reputation to overcome," Max added and a part of him wanted to see Morgan for himself to assess this change that Hart seemed to believe was happening. Then Max thought that perhaps he was too cynical where Agent Morgan was concerned but he just couldn't stop the nagging doubts.

"Exactly!" said Erroll triumphantly, "I just may have got him to think about his ways and now he likes the outcome…it just might keep him on this road of stability."

"We argued with Reardon to give him this chance, Hotch thinks that it shook him up and he needed it but I wonder if Morgan realises that Hotch was quite prepared to let him be replaced…" Max said remembering how Hotch had been thoroughly annoyed with Morgan's actions.

"I don't think Morgan wants to think in those terms because he's quite proud of his place on that team…I just want this relationship to continue and for it to work Max."

Max smiled, "Yes, let's hope that Morgan realises just how fortunate he is…"

Spencer Reid had hurried away as soon as he could at the end of the day and hoped that the traffic was not going to be too heavy on the way home. They were going to a special gallery event that evening of other local artists and Jo had been keen to go. Not all the artists were connected with the Torpedo Factory and the facilities there although many local people used them and participated in the art classes and displayed work. Jo often bought artwork locally for the displays in the apartments and houses she 'dressed' for clients but very few realised her own identity in the art world.

It was just after 8 p.m. when the couple entered the gallery and Dee greeted Jo…

"Jo, it's wonderful to see you, do you know the artists on show tonight?" the grey haired woman warmly greeted her. Reid took in the expensive scarlet dress suit with the large gold brooch of a modern tracery design. There was a thin gold band on her wedding finger that seemed so understated compared with the other jewellery the woman was wearing, especially when on the opposite hand she wore an over large beryl stone set in a thick band of gold. Spencer thought that unfortunately, this ugly ring drew unnecessary attention to her ageing hands.

"I know about half of them, are they all here?" Jo replied pleasantly and Spencer felt at ease because he picked up her relaxed manner with this middle-aged woman.

"Yes, we have a very good turned out…" she answered and finally noticed the tall very slender man at Jo's side and gave Jo a questioning look.

"This is my partner, Spencer…Spencer this is Dee Kalinsky, the owner of this gallery,"

"Hi, do you only have local artists like the Torpedo Factory or do you cast your net further afield?" he asked thinking that there was a good turn out for a Tuesday evening.

"I do have people from the Capital area and people do like coming to Alexandria to browse so I've never regretted setting up here but I can't compete with Washington or New York…"

"I think New York can be over rated at times," Spencer said, "Just because it's New York doesn't make it the best and its not the place for everyone."

"So you don't like the Big Apple!" Dee challenged, her china blue eyes sparkling with the sense of possible playful combat.

"I can tell that as a New Yorker you are prepared to defend your home city which I like to visit but I just couldn't imagine myself living there," Spencer honestly replied and was rewarded by Dee with a warm friendly smile for his honesty.

"My late husband was just the same, he hated living there so we moved to Virginia eventually…We edged our way across here, first we lived in New Jersey, then Delaware and finally settled here." Dee confided warmly. She liked this young man; Greg had mentioned that Jo had someone in her life and he liked art.

"But you're not from these parts?" she queried trying to make sense of the accent.

Spencer grinned, "No, I'm from Las Vegas!" he answered and saw her face drop at the answer.

"Behind the tackiness of the city there are some very nice parts well away from the casinos and night life…There is even a good university!" he added with laughing eyes.

"It's amazing isn't it …the assumptions we make about people because of the places they come from…" Dee conceded.

Jo squeezed his hand, her signal for 'lets get moving' and they politely moved on to circulate. Spencer saw Phil and asked if his father was there tonight assessing the 'opposition'.

"I heard that, I like to support my fellow art dealers," Greg replied coming up behind Reid and they spent a few minutes chatting before they moved on as Jo was interested in some unusual glass exhibits. Spencer knew that intense look and she was obviously thinking about where a graceful twisting glass ornament, standing nearly 4 feet, would fit in her schemes.

"Spencer!" a voice he knew suddenly broke into his observations of Jo in 'interior designer' mood.

He turned to find a smiling and very smart Emily Prentiss beaming at him. He was surprised by the magenta suit that she was wearing because she usually wore more sombre colours for work but the magenta softened her looks and made her appear younger.

"I never expected to see you…George this is my colleague, Dr. Spencer Reid and Spencer this is my friend George Haberis," she said quietly but Spencer picked up her obvious delight in seeing him. The men shook hands and eyed each other steadily.

"Pleasure to meet you, Spencer," George said with a sincerity that Spencer felt was true, "Emily does occasionally mention her colleagues, I understand you have the genius tag!"

Spencer grinned, "It's a label but I still have a lot to learn at the BAU and I'm all too human."

"Are you here on your own?" Emily asked looking around for an obviously lurking girlfriend.

Spencer was amused and knew that it would be a topic of discussion with J.J. and Garcia tomorrow although he doubted she would say anything in Derek's hearing.

" Jo's here but she's hunting for possible buys for her work, she liked that glass…" he indicated the ornament of twisted tubes in reds and yellows with streaks of pale green and white within the glass.

"What does she do?" George asked, taking a sip of the still mineral water he had in his wineglass.

"She's an interior designer…and I think that look of triumph means that she has just bagged a bargain!"

The couple followed his gaze and they found themselves staring at a shapely woman dressed in emerald green silk and standing around 5foot 5 in her kitten heels. Emily's training took over and assessed her to be in her mid- twenties with possibly an Italian ancestry and she held her left hand a little awkwardly. Her dark short hair fell in natural curls and a lamp near her caught the natural highlights that assured the observers that she was not black haired. She had a broad open face and there was something familiar about her looks but Emily just couldn't quite remember. The woman signed a paper and handed the pen back to the gallery assistant and then scanned the room for her partner. On seeing Spencer, she smiled and her whole face shone with the affection she felt for the man. Emily's attention was drawn to the woman's very unusual dark eyes. J.J. had told her about Gideon teasing Morgan over Reid's lady, and now Emily understood Gideon's fascination; those eyes were quite bewitching. The bewitching lady was making her way towards them and, as she advanced, Emily could see the marks of defence wounds on the left hand.

"A good price!" she said triumphantly to Reid and then raised her eyebrow questioningly.

This is Emily Prentiss and her friend George Haberis, …Emily, George this is my partner, Joanna Petersen," Spencer Reid said softly but the tone spoke volumes to the couple.

Emily and George were trying hard not to look too surprised but she smiled warmly and shook their hands.

"Yes, I am the daughter of who you are thinking of…" she whispered in a teasing tone and George smiled broadly.

"You're very like your father," George said solemnly, hoping he had not caused offence by his initial staring

"Well, if I didn't resemble one of my parents my Italian Granny would have had something to say about it. My parents say that I'm very like her when she was younger, " Jo confided with her black eyes twinkling mischievously. "Of course, Gideon has been spreading the rumour that I'm a witch…but I couldn't possibly comment…"

Spencer just confidently grinned and Emily thought that Morgan just hadn't a clue as to identity of Reid's lady but Emily liked this off duty Reid. Emily and George found themselves tagging along with the young couple and being introduced to artists, other dealers and local Virginians who knew them.

An hour later the two couples found themselves agreeing to go together for a light supper at a local bistro, just off King Street, and a casual observer might have thought that they were established friends. Neither Jo or Spencer were uneasy about George's position with the IRS, Spencer was naturally curious about George's speciality and they were soon talking about the finer points of Charity fraud. Emily and Jo just exchanged grins both happy that they were deep into a conversation and it gave the two women time to get to know one another without boring the men with their all important female view of the world.

As George drove towards Emily's Arlington home, he was pleased that she seemed so happy. He had suggested the gallery at the last minute after he had found it advertised in a local arts section of a magazine that was left in the foyer of his department.

"You enjoyed this evening?" he asked while he concentrated on the road.

"Yes, thank you George, I never expected to see Spencer and Jo. They are a lovely couple and I'm so pleased that he has someone and they just feel right!" she stated and George smiled. He personally felt that very few people knew about the little romantic hiding behind Emily's very professional image. He was just pleased at how relaxed she seemed; sometimes he felt the job was draining her too much.

"Spencer's a nice guy, he doesn't seem to hold any grudges considering what happened," George remarked.

"No, I told you, he apologised to me over his behaviour in Houston and I think it was Morgan he was really angry with…he went into his hotel room and through his things. If one of my colleagues had done that to me I'd have made an official complaint but Morgan has learnt his lesson, he has more respect for the team now.

I'm not going to say anything about who Jo's family are though, she's a nice person just like her father…I remember Judge Petersen giving a lecture at the Bureau on the judiciary and its need to up hold the law despite the threat of terrorism. He's a very fair and well-balanced man and we were shocked when he also explained how he had lost a son and his only nephew to 911."

George nodded, the reputation of Alan Petersen went before him and George had a particular respect for him because he had never sided with either Democrat or Republican allegiances. George was of the opinion that a true independent mind was sorely lacking at times in the Nation's Highest Court. He had heard it said that Petersen's independence would cost him a place in the Supreme Court but at least Virginia had not turned its back on his brilliant legal mind.

"So you like Spencer?" Emily suddenly asked.

"Oh yes, a marvellous mind, such an interesting man to talk to, I would never be bored in his company because his interests are so wide ranging…"

Emily smiled, she had thought they would get on and she remembered that Spencer Reid had been quite animated as they chatted together. She knew that Reid always implied that he liked to keep his private life and work separate but she hoped that perhaps they would build on the pleasant evening they had shared. Emily hoped that she would meet Jo again, perhaps she would go to the Choir's concert if they were not on a case.

Meanwhile in a pleasant apartment in Maryland, Gideon was still troubled by his recurring images of the young man who had died of stab wounds in a beautiful Idaho forest. The older man knew the job was taking too big a toll on him and he was getting to the point of wishing away his time at the Bureau. Gideon never thought he would find himself thinking like that but the past year had been the hardest alongside his memories of the Boston bomb. The session before the Mental Health Services Board had been a turning point for the next stage of his life, Reid had seen so much despite his own problems. The department's genius had changed for the better since Hankel, there were scars but he had grown in confidence and he strongly believed that there was a life to be had alongside his work. Gideon smiled to himself, now Jo was quite a lady and he hoped that Reid would be able to keep the right balance between his work and private life.

However, Gideon reminded himself that Reid had observed how Hotch maintained his contact with Hayley when on a case. Aaron was always discreet but the team knew that early evening was a time he tried to call home and it was obviously a time for his son. If you shared a room with Hotch when away, then the Unit Chief would always ask if he could have around 20 minutes for a personal call at 10 o'clock. Usually it was Gideon who shared with Hotch if the agents had to double up on rooms but there had been a couple of times when he had shared with Reid. Hotch had said that the younger man had been a considerate roommate and he had appreciated the quietness about the genius. Gideon knew that Hotch did not like sharing with Morgan, who he found a restless sleeper and talked far too much for his boss.

Gideon put the glass of claret down, he had hoped to be spending the evening with Sarah but her work, like his own, sometimes took priority over social events. It was good to have made the connection with Sarah again after all these years and that she herself was now ready to try and pick up her own life, two years after the grieving for her husband of 20 years. It was strange how life could be so arbitrary in the modern world, his own late wife had died unexpectedly after a routine operation but we all assume that modern medicine can cure everything. Gideon's mind pondered upon the theme of how many of us really read the small print on medical forms that hospitals insist on the patient, or their representative, signing…Even routine operations can carry a small risk, blood clots can happen and sometimes patients don't wake up. They had been separated but they still saw each other in between cases, their son being the natural excuse for keeping everything civilised, but who knows if they would have taken the next step of divorce because neither had met anyone else. The job, it always came down to the demands of the job…

The doorbell rang and he moved towards the door wondering who would be about at past 11:30. He peered through the spyhole and was surprised and delighted. Gideon's hands swiftly undid the chain and bolts.

"Sarah!" he said in welcome as she stepped into his apartment, her rich dark brown hair glistening with raindrops.

"I hope you don't mind but we had arranged to spend sometime together this evening and I didn't want to go back to my place…"

Gideon took her coat, enjoying the sensuous smell of her Chanel perfume.

"I only parked a few cars up from the entrance but the rain…" she stopped as Gideon took her hand and then found herself longing to be just held by this warm and sensual man. Jason didn't disappoint her and she gave no resistance as he gathered her into his arms and kissed her.

"You are going to stay aren't you?" he simply asked, his dark eyes looking into her own and she felt he could read her inner thoughts.

"I'd like to," she confessed and he smiled knowing that tonight would be easier to cope with now he had Sarah with him. Gideon pushed back all his doubts and fears that could bubble to the surface about his future. Tonight he would feel alive again and all thoughts of feeling old and looming retirement were banished at the thought of Sarah sharing his bed.

**The next morning**

Gideon sat in his office trying to decide which reel to show the cadets that afternoon, he was chuckling away at the old Chaplin film, 'A Night at the Show', and didn't see Hotchner in the doorway. Hotch had been initially curious about the mechanical clicking sounds, along with the occasional chuckle, emanating from Gideon's office and finally he had to take a look for himself.

"You're not teaching today?" Hotch asked surprised to see a laid back senior profiler watching a Chaplin comedy at only 9:15 in the morning.

"This afternoon," Gideon replied but he was more interested in the film than why his boss might be standing at his door.

Hotch decided to enter and find out what was going on.

"What's this?" he asked mildly, but he thought that Gideon had better have a very good reason for his behaviour so early in the day because he was not setting the rest of the department a good example.

Gideon smiled, "It's genius!" he replied but didn't seem to be inclined to explain his actions further.

The bemused Unit Chief was not going to give up so easily, and began again,

"You have Chaplin on film…"

Gideon then explained how his grandfather had acquired them in a rather dubious manner and it was obvious to Hotch that these were precious possessions.

"How come you haven't brought these in before?" asked Hotch who couldn't remember Gideon ever mentioning these reels since he had known him and had never heard anyone else mention them at the Bureau either.

"Showing it to my cadets today. I try to leave them with some kind of strategy for dealing with the stress the job brings," the older man explained still chuckling away at the scenes flickering before him.

"Like comedy," Hotch said, very puzzled by Gideon's present behaviour.

"Greatest gift my granddad ever left me…"

While Hotch watched amused by the old film there was at the back of his mind a nagging question as to why had Gideon suddenly decided to show the cadets this now. After all his years of teaching Hotch was sure that this was the first time Gideon had decided to share these gems. Hotch continued to watch with the man, he wanted to observe him a little longer to try and settle his own disquiet.

Hotchner wondered if Gideon was feeling the stress more these days, it was what Spencer was implying all those weeks ago before the Mental Health Board and why they had acted, not just to help Reid but they were also trying to help Gideon towards his retirement. Aaron Hotchner wondered if anyone would notice if he started to show signs of excessive stress. He didn't think he was but with the situation at home and their workload perhaps he could keep up appearances in his department because he was the boss. But then his memory reminded him that Reid had noticed something was wrong and Hotch felt a warm feeling flow through him, at least Spencer had a finger on the pulse of the team even if he wasn't ready to step into Gideons' shoes yet.

About an hour later, J.J. had pulled the team together to introduce a very earnest young detective from Kansas City who believed that some 63 people, from the Skid Row area he oversaw, had gone missing. The very nature of the homeless and down and out individuals who inhabited his down town patch made it difficult for other police officials to take him seriously because no one had actually been reported missing. The team had listened sympathetically and observed the detective who showed obvious signs of obsessive-compulsive disorder, with his detailed notebooks and the way he stacked them neatly and preferred to keep them within his sight and control. Cal McGee had explained how he had even recently got an award for cleaning up his patch because there were obviously less homeless, less junkies, and even fewer prostitutes in the area and that all meant less crime. But he assured them that he had done nothing and he had been sent a letter when he received his award.

The typed letter was passed round the assembled agents, "There are two types of people in the world: those who do the work and those who take the credit. You should be ashamed."

As Detective McGee had said to Jareau earlier in her office, somebody else knew that he was being praised for something he didn't do.

Gideon sat at the back of the room and appeared to be reading a newspaper but he was listening to how the team was reacting to the Detective and his story. Gideon thought that the team was responding very well to the young man and were not trying to distress him further, which would only increase his tendency to stutter and exacerbate his OCD behaviour. However, he suspected that he had come without official authority and that was also adding to the man's nervous symptoms.

Hotch recognised a conscientious detective but he gently explained that despite the young man's suspicions, "Simply being gone isn't a federal issue."

Gideon decided to further point out that his visit had been fruitless by adding, "We're gonna need an official invitation into your jurisdiction."

""An official?" repeated the worried and dejected detective.

Hotch gently clarified, "Police Chief, Chief of Detectives…It has to come down through the chain of command, we have no authority to look at this…."

Cal McGee felt his early morning flight and effort to come here had been all for nothing, but then he heard the attractive Agent Jareau quietly speaking to her boss.

"Hotch there could be 63 victims here," the blond said earnestly to the Unit Chief and she was pleased to see that he seemed to take a moment to reflect upon her words.

"Well, I suppose you and I could go back with the detective and talk to his commanders and try to impress upon them the serious implications…" Hotch said and saw J.J. look pleased with his decision.

Cal McGee felt a glimmer of hope and wondered how he would ever be able to adequately thank the beautiful young woman who had spoken in his favour. The other agents seemed to be organising their thoughts on the matter and he watched the older man leave saying, "I'll wrap up my class. If anything changes let me know. I should be available by 4 o'clock."

As he sat on the small jet, Cal McGee couldn't believe the chance he had taken but he still had to think about how he was going to explain his actions to his boss once they got to the stationhouse. He spent the journey trying to think what to say and going over the facts from his notebooks…he had to get them just right for his captain. The agents had wanted to keep them but he was reluctant to let them out of his sight so he had spent the time, before his departure, briefing them about the individuals he had noticed were missing.

Meanwhile, Jareau walked through from speaking with the pilot to tell the detective and her boss that they would be arriving at Kansas City in ten minutes. She went and sat with Hotch aware that he had been watching the obsessive McGee. She apologetically admitted to her boss that she might have persuaded him to go on a wild goose chase, considering the man's mental stability, but to her surprise Hotch dismissed her embarrassment over her support for the earnest detective by saying,

"But as someone I greatly respect suggested, 63 people may be in trouble and I think that that's worth the chase." The Unit Chief assured her.

Hotch smiled at her surprise reflected in her eyes, but he really did value Jareau's opinions when it came to cases and felt that it was a shame that she did not want to train to be a profiler.

Meanwhile, back at Quantico, the younger agents were already delving into the case despite it not yet being official. They had to follow the rules and their hands were tied by jurisdictional concerns but Garcia had been trying to follow up the names McGee had given her. Morgan had found that she was getting increasingly upset that she could find no official record of the names she had looked at so far.

Gideon joined Prentiss, Morgan and Reid in the Conference room after his class had finished and he saw the board covered with index cards but, despite her efforts, Garcia had not found a single 'missing report' to hang an investigation on.

"We're been compiling preliminary profile thoughts based on the limited victimology that we have," Reid informed the senior profiler.

"Profile! We don't even have a case yet," Gideon protested at the younger agent's eagerness to see a crime.

But Prentiss defended their actions. "We just want to be prepared in case we are called in," she stated to explain the hours they had spent on the case so far.

"We don't have enough work to do?" Gideon grumbled and wondered if he should point out that they all had profiling requests on their desks.

"Gideon he's a house cleaner," Morgan justified.

"With 63 potential victims," added Reid quietly.

Gideon found three pairs of earnest eyes staring at him and thought this was either a group illusion, caused by the desire to avoid the more mundane profiling requests, or they were genuinely on to something.

"What have you come up with so far?" the older man asked in a conciliatory tone.

In Kansas City, Hotchner was trying to be conciliatory towards Captain Wright but he didn't like the man's attitude towards the down and outs of his city. Wright's detective may have acted out of line but he had picked up a pattern that was escalating. Hotch was not going to be dismissed if there was a chance of getting Wright to work with him rather than against. But then Agent Jareau had saved the day with the realisation that the letter McGee had received had been posted in Kansas City, Missouri, so it was a federal issue as it had crossed the state line to reach Kansas City, Kansas. Captain Wright reluctantly accepted defeat and Hotchner quickly retained McGee as a consultant for the case and Jareau rang the BAU to get them moving.

The background work they had been doing meant that the team hit the ground running once they arrived. Captain Wright wasn't sure that he was in control of his stationhouse anymore now the case was officially under investigation. However, he had to admit that the specialist team McGee had contacted was very professional and the agents were trying to work smoothly with his people. They had presented their profile of the unsub soon after arriving and Wright and his people had agreed that he sounded an evil piece of scum. After the briefing, the police and the agents set out for the down town area to talk to the 'low life' that lived there to see if they had noticed anyone else missing or anyone who didn't fit in amongst them and made them feel uneasy. These streetwise inhabitants were not used to seeing so many law personnel amongst them and who just wanted to talk with them about a stranger who didn't fit in.

Gideon worked alongside Cal McGee and he admired the young detective for his skills with these people who often felt totally alienated from society. Gideon saw that McGee knew many by name and was unafraid to shake their hands and treat them with a humanity that they often didn't expect. He explained to the older profiler that he was probably only sent here to keep him out of the way and that Captain Wright had been his father's partner when he had got shot. Gideon felt saddened because despite his OCD this detective was good at dealing with these people and they equally responded to him.

Reid and Hotch went to talk to the local prostitutes who worked the streets. Hotch was exasperated with the effect Reid had on these women. Reid was trying very hard not to be embarrassed by the unwanted attention but Hotch was to report, later to their colleagues, that all the women hit on Reid. The young agent wondered just why they did give him such attention because he had never considered himself attractive to the opposite sex because of his lack of masculine looks and his general nerdiness. Although he admitted to himself that since knowing Jo he didn't blush as much and his confidence with women had blossomed with the stability of their relationship. As the agents walked along, Reid also acknowledged to himself that the counselling he had received at the Clinic had also strengthened his self-confidence and his determination to act more like his real self at work. As they walked towards yet another couple of scantily dressed women, Spencer wondered if he would tell Jo about his experiences this evening.

Morgan and Prentiss walked amongst the homeless and Prentiss was impressed with the gentleness that Morgan could show to some of these forgotten women like the elderly Mona who they had just been talking to. Prentiss liked this side of Morgan that she had not seen before.

"You're a good guy," Prentiss said to her colleague as they walked together, heading towards Reid and Hotchner who were the other end of the alley.

"You think?" replied Morgan genuinely surprised at her remark. Prentiss felt she had a rare glimpse of the 'unsure Morgan' who was usually carefully hidden behind his wall of self-confidence.

"Yeah, You make people around you feel good," Emily further explained because she felt Morgan should be told that this was a likeable side. She then wondered if this was the 'Angela effect' and, if it was, she hoped it would continue. Emily thought this more stable and pleasanter Morgan was much nicer to know than the flirtatious and over confident jerk they sometimes saw at Quantico.

They met up with their colleagues and Captain Wright, who had been working the area with Agent Jareau. Captain Wright was not at all surprised with the lack of any leads from these street people. He personally felt that they were still on a wild goose chase but he had to humour the FBI because they were being systematic and they had a very good reputation although they had believed McGee!

Suddenly Morgan saw the elderly Mona and she seemed to be giving up her cart and about to get in a Department of Human Services van. It didn't feel right and he turned to Wright to get clarification.

"Does your social services department patrol around?" he abruptly asked the Captain.

"Excuse me?" Wright replied somewhat taken aback by the man's manner.

"Do they drive around in the middle of the night looking for people to help?" Morgan clarified but he was already moving sensing that Mona was in danger.

"No they have to be called…" Wright began but found himself talking to thin air as the athletic man had dashed off towards the van shouting for Mona to stop a minute. His colleagues read the situation instantly and were not far behind and the man's attempt to drive away was thwarted by Morgan grabbing the steering wheel through the open driver's window. There was the discordant screeching of tyres and the sound of metal hitting metal as the van careered into some parked cars before coming to a halt. Wright and Hotch had by then caught up with their weapons aimed at the van driver who was pulled from the vehicle by Morgan.

The van driver was not the unsub but his accomplice. Steven Foster was terrified of the unsub and the team let him worry on his own for a few minutes before Hotch and McGee confronted him, wanting to know the name of the man pulling the strings. Hotch very quickly got Foster to name Charles Holcombe and the location of the old meatpacking factory.

The BAU team and the police descended upon the old factory and were horrified by various blood-splattered rooms they had found. Finally they had reached the killing room where Maggie, a prostitute, had survived the tortuous obstacles during the sick game of trying to find her way out of the maze Holcombe had taunted her with. Maggie had found herself amazingly still alive, after being gassed, strapped to a gurney, which a man was pushing. She couldn't see his face, or any features, as he was dressed in white hooded overalls, visor and gloves and from the tread of his feet she thought he wore rubber boots. Holcombe had been prepared to slit her throat when the agents confronted him and he died in a hail of bullets. Everything had happened so quickly, one second she thought she was going to be killed and the next she was rescued. Hotch assured Maggie that an ambulance was on its way but she wanted to see her torturer's face and then her thoughts turned to her daughter who was being cared for with her mother.

Hotch thought Maggie was a very brave woman and wondered what circumstances had led her to her life on the street. It was so easy to loose your job, then your home and to find yourself selling your body to survive or had she been a young woman who succumbed to the drugs and this was her way to feed her addiction? He closed off the speculation in his mind. Maggie had survived but 63 others had not and he suspected that the deranged Holcombe had filmed the demise of all his victims and the toll could be higher than the one McGee had suggested.

McGee had looked on in disbelief at the carnage of the killing room but his colleagues had also seen him in a different light and there was a quiet respect for a man who had gone outside to bring help. They had caught a serial killer and the worst one ever in the state of Kansas. They would have their own tales to tell of the events for years to come but the smell of death in the old meatpacking factory would haunt them for the rest of their lives. For McGee, the pile of victims' shoes horrified him even more than the severed limbs that they had found just hanging down on meat hooks from the ceiling. It was just that these very normal, and often prized, processions reminded him of the real people who had lived their lives on his patch in the city.

The Team had only been away a couple of days but they were all too quiet, locked in their own thoughts on the way back on the plane. When they got back to Quantico, Gideon suggested watching his Chaplin films before they went home. They made themselves comfortable in their conference room to watch the silent master comedian work his magic. The women sat together eating popcorn, supplied by Garcia, and occasionally tormented Reid by throwing the odd piece at his head. Reid sat studiously watching the action on the screen at the front and was annoyed by their childish actions. Morgan sat close to Garcia occasionally sharing her pot of popcorn while the two senior profilers watched their team unwind.

Hotch wished the women would leave Reid alone with their antics and then thought how fortunate they were to have his even temperament amongst them. Reid was sitting so close to the screen trying to see all the detail of the timing. He was mentally comparing Chaplin's technique with his own favourite silent star, Buster Keaton. Reid had only stayed because Jo had choir practice and there would be no one home until around 10 o'clock that evening. Spencer had not wanted to go home to an empty apartment, after the evil they had found in Kansas City, and he wondered why Gideon had never shared these wonderful old reels of film with the team before. Reid made a mental note to add this to his group dynamics report before he filed it tomorrow. The young profiler was unsure about Gideon's actions; perhaps he should see if Don or Max was about tomorrow when he took in his report for Arnie to assess.

Gideon seemed never to tire of the genius of Chaplin. Hotch enjoyed seeing the older man chuckle; Gideon seem so carefree and wished it was an image that they could see more often. But Hotchner was puzzled by Gideon's moods at the moment and he sensed that Reid was watching his mentor more also. Hotch tried to relax into the comedy but inside his gut was tight with the thought of his home life at the moment. Dr. Bethany Eades was a very warm and understanding psychologist whom Max had recommended for Hayley. Hotch had worn his wife down to get her consent to see the woman and he had made the appointment himself. She had even seen them initially on a Saturday morning and Nancy had looked after Jack while Hayley had reluctantly gone with him to Dr. Eades's consulting room.

Bethany Eades had very quickly assessed the situation before her and asked Hotch to go and take a walk for an hour, "While we women get to know one another…" she had quietly but firmly requested.

Hotch had done as he was told and when he returned he found a red eyed Hayley but she was also eager to have another session with Bethany that coming week. Hotch thought that he ought to find the time to personally thank Max because at least Hayley was talking to someone she seemed to trust, even if Hotch himself felt shut out of her thoughts at the moment. He sensed only resentment from Hayley about his desire to accept nature's decisions but, in reality, the miscarriages had been a disappointment for him too. However, Hotch also wanted his wife back and caring for their son and not moping around, forever thinking of what might have been and longing to be pregnant.

The reel came to an end and Reid suddenly got up and stretched his thin frame,

"That was great Gideon but I've got to go," he said apologetically.

"You're not going to stay for the last reel?" Morgan asked surprised because the agent had seemed so totally engrossed in the previous two.

"No, I need to get home, 'night!" he said firmly and Hotch knew it should be his cue for moving too.

"I'll walk down with you to the car park," Hotch said, "I'll just get my brief case, Good night everyone, see you all tomorrow."

"Hey, Gideon we'd like to see the last reel," Morgan said grinning at the senior profiler.

"Good, you'll not be disappointed," Gideon assured as he changed reels and the women settled down to more popcorn and laughter.

Reid waited for Hotch by his desk and they entered the elevator together talking about the delight of the slapstick comedy.

"Have you ever seen those old film reels before?" Hotch asked Reid.

"Not at all, I didn't know he had them and the old team never mentioned it to me…It's strange that suddenly Gideon brings them in now when he's had all those other opportunities to share that fun."

Hotch nodded his understanding and there was a flicker of shared disquiet about Gideon's actions. Neither man wanted to voice their concern but both men shared the unspoken unease.

"He handled the case well and was very supportive of Detective McGee," Reid said feeling the need to reassure Hotch that Gideon had coped with the situation.

"Yes, I agree but…Well, perhaps we're just reading too much into it afterall he was using the magic of comedy to show the cadets one of his ways of de-stressing…"

"Yeah," replied Reid softly, "But when you consider all the classes he has taught and all the stressful cases we have experienced and yet it's only now? Perhaps Gideon feels that his time here is coming to an end and he needs to pass on as much as he can before he retires…"

"The soonest date is next year and then the Bureau would probably still invite him back to teach because of his wealth of expertise," Hotch countered.

"Maybe Gideon is planning on moving out of the area…you know like trying to make a fresh start rather than clinging to old glories?" suggested Reid thinking aloud his theory.

"I'd not thought of that angle on things," Hotch conceded as they left the elevator and made for the entrance doors.

"Well, drive carefully home and try and get some sleep," Hotch said with a rare smile as they got to the car park.

Reid looked a little surprised, "You think my driving is that bad?"

"No…we just like you concentrating that great mind of yours on the case when we're working but I don't want it thinking about other things when you're driving home…"

"You're digging yourself into a hole," Reid said eyeing his boss suspiciously.

"I suspect you're escaping to spend as much time with your lady, just like I am, but if that's the case…try and keep your mind on the road!" Hotch clarified with humour in his voice, "'Night Reid!"

Spencer smiled as he watched the tall strong figure move towards his car, Reid liked Hotch and hoped all was well at home for him. He opened the door of his old Volvo and slipped into the comfortable worn leather seat; his old car was like a second skin and he didn't like the thought of one-day having to replace it.

Reid arrived home before Jo and made peppermint tea to accompany a cheese sandwich.

"That's an odd combination," Jo said as she saw the half-eaten meal on the kitchen table as Spencer went through his mail.

"Everyone all right?" she asked, as she made a mug of peppermint tea for herself.

"Yeah, we just stayed behind to unwind watching some Charlie Chaplin films Gideon had," he explained as he read a letter that Jo knew had a Princeton postmark.

She watched his expression carefully and saw that he seemed very quiet and thoughtful over the contents. It was a few minutes later that he looked up and she saw that his eyes held a dull look, a look she usually associated with him shutting down on a subject.

"It's from Kevin Kirkland asking if I want to attend Delphine's memorial service in the chapel and more or less pleading with me to prepare a piece to say." Spencer said to the unasked question that was in the air.

"But you don't intend to go, I thought you had told Prof. Donovan," replied Jo sipping her soothing tea.

"Right, but Kevin is in the Maths department and he's obviously trying to find someone to say something nice about the woman," Spencer said and Jo observed how Spencer's face went emotionless in his determination over this matter and she sensed there was an undercurrent of emotional blackmail.

"So they think you'll be Mr. Nice Guy and lie through your teeth," she said bluntly.

Spencer looked up at her sharp tone but Jo had gone to the heart of the matter.

"Something like that," the man conceded but he really didn't want to talk about it, it was a long time ago and he would not be used in this manner by his former university.

He sat down at the table and took a bite of his cheese sandwich but he knew that Jo was curious about his reaction to Delphine's death but he just didn't want to think about the woman.

"Did your choir session go well?" he suddenly asked hoping to change the subject and bury all thoughts of Delphine.

"Fine, we all turned up which was good. The last few weeks we've had people on vacations…we should be ready for the concert," Jo played along but the more he closed off the topic, the more it niggled away at her desire to know exactly why Spencer didn't like the dead woman. It was so unlike him, Spencer had such a big heart normally although she knew that he was not a total push over.

She finished her tea and walked over to him and placed her arm around his bony shoulders. "I saw the news, the Kansas City Monster was the leading item. The BAU was mentioned and there was a glimpse of the team. I saw Gideon and Emily and I think the tall stern looking man in the dark smart suit had to be your boss. You had your head down to avoid the cameras!"

"Yeah, that was probably me, I'm not too keen on the media circus. It was bloody awful…and I do mean bloody…. blood dripping down from sawn off human limbs that were hanging from the ceiling on meat hooks. Stuff we couldn't let the media near but the smell was awful and even the experienced cops looked pale and out of their depth with what we discovered. I thought I might be sick but I wasn't although I didn't feel like eating until I got home," he confessed leaning into her warm body.

Spencer thought of Maggie's cut and bloodied feet and the fine facial cuts and the bleeding around her nose. They had just got to her in time; Holcombe even ignored their presence and was positioning the knife to slash her throat. Hotch and Morgan didn't hesitate in firing at him. Spencer remembered helping to initially catalogue the videos of his victims, they had screamed for mercy as he taunted them before he began to cut their limbs off with an electric saw. Spencer had seen Captain Wright rigid with his open mouthed disbelief as the screams of an old man ended abruptly as he had probably died from the shock, but it was repeated over and over again with the other victims. The stationhouse was subdued with the realisation that the old meatpacking factory was their own real horror story unfolding on their doorstep. Some of the officers didn't know how to say sorry to McGee, while others mumbled their way through a few words to say that he'd done a good job and had been a good cop to go behind Wright's back.

Jo just hugged Spencer knowing he wouldn't go into details and was surprised at the few revealing things he had said. The news report had hinted at the horrors and how the latest victim had been saved but that she had experienced a terrifying ordeal. Jo remembered her own traumatic ordeal and how many months later she had read the newspaper reports in the Virginian press. She had been front-page news because of her father's position and part of her had wanted to change her appearance and hide well away from the public. She had dreaded the thought of people asking her questions about Sandrine and her death and had gathered all her strength for the court case, which in the end never happened. However, Jo knew that she had changed since the attack, it was not just the physical scars it was the mental ones that ran deep and she was less carefree and not so extrovert. The attack had killed part of her youthful enthusiasm and the spirit of adventure; Jo had aged and become far more wary of people since Sandrine's death. Jo hoped the survivor of the Kansas City horror would receive good counselling and support but the news report had said that she was a drug addict paying for her habit with prostitution. Jo wondered if she would try to escape further through stronger drugs and in the end seek oblivion from her memories so Holcombe would add another victim to his count.

"Delphine was a bitch, you wouldn't have liked her. She was so condescending to those she thought were beneath her both intellectually and socially," Spencer suddenly said cutting through her thoughts.

Jo hugged him at the vehemence in his words.

"What happened?" she asked softly and heard Spencer sigh at her request. He hugged her closer, and Jo automatically stroked his hair and thought absently that it needed a trim.

"Quite a lot of the female students felt safe around me because they knew I wouldn't jump them…you know?"

"Yeah, I fought off my share of randy jerks," she whispered back in understanding and she remembered the sweet students that she felt safe with as friends without any sexual overtones.

"I knew quite a lot of the maths department because my of first doctorate and some even came and asked me about my early research papers. I didn't like the way Delphine treated the women there or anywhere else on the campus. She would make unnecessary cutting remarks about their dress and lack of education…She felt so superior because of her parents' social standing and the circles that she had mixed in while growing up in New York. There was one maths student who was profoundly deaf; a really nice guy called Paul. He had to lip read and he would sign if anyone knew ASL. I learnt because I thought it would be a useful skill and he had fantastic ideas but would always have to be in a sheltered work environment because of his handicap. He had learnt to speak but you probably know how difficult that is for a profoundly deaf person and their speech can sound so flat and expressionless and even odd with the pronunciation."

"Yes, I understand," Jo said already sensing where this was going.

"Well, Delphine thought she would lead the pack of jerks that usually buzzed around her so called pretty self in the sport of mocking Paul behind his back. She was always worse after alcohol. It wasn't pleasant and Wesley told her to her face when he witnessed it that she was a nasty little bitch and he wouldn't collaborate with her. He went and complained to the head of the department and he even took it up with the Dean. Paul was deeply embarrassed about it all and felt very stressed whenever she came near him so her following would make fun of that too. Paul was on a full scholarship and came from a poor family in South Carolina and he had been brought up to respect women and didn't know how to handle this female tormentor. Delphine felt she was untouchable because of her contacts but the situation was splitting the maths department and then it turned nasty…some one trashed Paul's room while he was in the library…and the security cameras had been tampered with…"

"Of course, so there was no evidence but the separate camps became even more marked," Jo surmised.

"Oh yeah, I had a big apartment on the campus but it was away from the maths people so it was an escape for Paul and he had my couch for a few weeks but of course that lead to other rumours…"

"Delphine spread it around that you were gay!" Jo said looking at him with laughter in her eyes, "Boy was she way off!"

"I could handle it but Wesley jumped in to defend me when he heard her sounding off and so did a number of my female friends…Who, because they defended me, were then the target of her vicious bitchy tongue."

"And this kept escalating and no body pulled her up on it," Jo said in disbelief.

"Not exactly, on one occasion, one of the students had a small tape recorder with her and recorded Delphine's rant at one on my friends and then took it to the chaplain. He was incensed and took it up with the Dean and because this friend was an Afro-American, and Delphine was making racist remarks, it was pure dynamite. But Delphine's parents pulled all the strings they could and Delphine went off for the rest of the year for a period of research collaboration in Paris. This at least meant that Paul could get his Masters finished and he was offered a research position with an IT company in Seattle where he could work upon his doctorate in their labs. He's got his doctorate now and still happily works for them.

When Delphine returned, I was in my final year and she was still making homophobic remarks about me and inferring that Wes was a closet gay and that we had been lovers. I told her that as Wes was dead he couldn't defend himself but I could…"

What did you do?" Jo whispered.

"Oh I profiled her in front of a lot of students. She had made these remarks in a student cafeteria…I can be quite devastating when I want to be but it was all done in a very calm voice and Prof Donovan heard most of it because someone had gone to get him…"

"What did she do?"

"I rendered her speechless and she ran out to escape my psychological attack. I doubt anyone had ever done that to her before. I just sat down to eat my lunch but I did get a round of applause. Donovan came over and said that he hoped I was going to take up the position with the FBI because my talents should be put to a better use. It stopped her behaviour towards me but she would still have her verbal attacks at my friends if they were alone. Delphine was a vicious vixen and I don't know anyone who liked her. Ironically, she was a good researcher but she was given a wide berth because of her behaviour. However, her research brought in money and kudos for the maths department so they were reluctant to get rid of her. I suspect she got very isolated with her bitter take on life and in the end she was shunned and the parents couldn't help her. I gather she began to drink more aswell. But it would be hypocritical of me to go to her memorial and if I spoke it would be about her unkindness to her fellow students."

"So why did this Kevin Kirkland write to you if this all happened on the campus?"

"It was before his time, he's only been there a couple of years and I still have my contacts there. He probably saw a photograph of the researchers who worked with Wes, I was in it, and he probably thinks I'm one of the good guys…Perhaps I am, but I'm not going to go. People are afraid to speak ill of the dead. You just think how often, when someone dies, people will say, 'Oh he was such a nice guy' and you know he wasn't but no one speaks out at the funeral because its not etiquette. Her parents fuelled Delphine's monstrous ego…and I don't think it's my job to tell them that. I suspect her previous teachers knew what she was like and she got away with a lot because of her physical beauty and her parents social standing."

"I just can't believe that any parent would bring up a child like that. I know girls can go through a bitchy stage but my mother soon nipped my attempt to follow the trend and my school worked hard at it too. There is no need for it but we all know the spoilt brats who have been put on pedestals. My Mom wouldn't have it, and certainly not my Granny, but we were taught respect for people. Craig and I have tried to carry on the respect our parents taught us but there are still those who take delight in belittling others, its cruel and I hate to see it. It's a form of bullying but as a society we don't like to admit that it's happening around us," Jo said thinking how some people took delight in deliberately verbally attacking people they thought couldn't retaliate.

"Well, I'm not going and I'm going to send Kirkland an email and I will be honest as to why I will not attend," Spencer said firmly.

She sensed his need for action and released her embrace. Reid got up and gave her a quick kiss on her cheek before he made his way to the living room and the computer.

Jo turned to the kitchen sink to wash the few pieces of crockery and as she did so pondered upon the nastiness of her own sex. 'We may be physically weaker but the psychological damage we do with our tongues,' she mused as she carefully placed Spencer's clean berry red mug back on the mug tree.

As Gideon parked his car he noticed that his living room light was on and his heart suddenly felt lighter at the thought of Sarah waiting for him. It was good that she felt she could use the key he had given her. He had not thought to ring her to say he was back but perhaps the news reports had lead her to take the chance. Gideon opened his door as softly as possible and peered into his living room; he saw her shoeless feet sticking out off the end of the couch. Sarah had fallen asleep and he felt tenderness towards her that he thought he would never feel for a woman again. It felt so good to have met up with Sarah after all the years of their separate lives.

Gideon slipped off his jacket and came round to the couch and bent a little so he could gently push away a stray lock of hair that had fallen across her face. The action woke her and he saw an instance of surprise turn into pleasure at the sight of him.

"I thought you might be back tonight, I hope you didn't mind?"

"Not at all, it's why I gave you the key," he said with a soft smile and the horrors that they had found in Kansas City were banished in the company of this treasured friend.

End of Chapter 29.


	30. Chapter 30

The In-Between Times: Chapter 30

**By Helena Fallon**

Disclaimer: As a reminder to fan-fiction readers, I have borrowed these Criminal Minds characters but no infringement of copyright is in any way intended. Please note that the characters I have invented are my personal intellectual property and took time and effort to research!

Reference will be made to 'No Way Out 2'

(When I studied this episode in detail I found that the time scale just didn't quite make sense so I have taken liberties to adjust the original and then written my interpretation in the context of this story line.)

Hotch was troubled by the internal admin requests that he had received. It had been a difficult year for the BAU and he had a feeling that they were soon going to be called to account for some of the happenings. He still felt that Elle Greenaway had put them all in a difficult position, there was no proof only suspicion, and even the Bureau's internal investigation had cleared her of wrong doing because it fell ultimately upon Elle's word. She was fortunate to have had good Police and Service records but in his heart Hotch was sure that she had deliberately murdered the suspect.

Morgan had not trusted the team with the truth about his child abuse and the whole affair could have been very difficult if the Chicago Police Department had pursued a formal complaint about Morgan escaping police custody. Fortunately, the Chicago PD had been satisfied to have Buford for murder and child molestation but Morgan's image had taken a battering because he had not spoken out against Buford when he had the opportunity as a young man. It was something that Morgan had to square with his own conscience but Hotch was pleased with how the team as a whole quietly and sensitively had supported their colleague. Morgan had also overstepped the bounds of privacy over his concerns for Reid, which were actions that were probably influenced by Gideon's lack of apparent care over Reid's return, but it had led to disciplinary hearings for himself, Prentiss and Garcia. It was a time when Hotch wondered if his team was imploding before his eyes but thankfully things seemed to be settling once again.

The Hankel case had seriously affected both Jareau and Reid. It annoyed Hotch that the Bureau continued to call Reid for frequent random drug tests despite the fact that they were always clean. Strauss had stressed the Bureau's concern for the young agent because the drug that he had been forcibly given was one of the most addictive known and the extra tests were for the agent's welfare. Hotch was immensely proud of Reid for the way he accepted the procedure with good grace. Reid had said that really the Bureau was being careful considering the stressful work he was in. The job could lead to some agents drinking to alleviate the stress and some to use recreational drugs despite the testing programme the Bureau had for all it's staff. Reid had been given extensive counselling while away at the Clinic and the agent who eventually returned to them was far more mature and focussed about his life. Hotch thought that meeting a steady woman had a lot to do with consolidating those changes and the girlfriend meant that Hotch didn't worry so much about him. If Reid had not had a happy private life then Hotch would have been more worried that the agent might succumb to the power of drugs with the trauma he had experienced. But he was actually more concerned about Agent Jareau following Reid's kidnap and torture.

J.J. had played down the incident in the Hankel barn but the two agents had thought that Hankel was escaping and had gone to stop him. They had been out of cell range and had to make a field decision. Hotch had to admit he would have probably made the same decision to try and capture Hankel given the circumstances the agents found themselves in. Jareau had attended regular counselling sessions during her sick leave and the Bureau had also provided her with experience alongside large dogs to help her get over obvious fears. Hotch knew that there were times when the nightmares still haunted her even if the flashbacks had receded. However, the Mental Health team still saw her regularly to assess the long-term effects and overall their reports were very encouraging.

Then there was Jason Gideon. Hotchner was torn between his respect for the wealth of knowledge from his years of experience and his behaviour over the past year. They had been overworked without Reid, and Barry and Anderson had not fitted in to the team's gestalt. However, his failure to adequately support Spencer Reid when he returned had distressed other team members as well as himself. Fortunately the Mental Health team had been made aware of the situation or things could have been very bad for Gideon with his appearance before the Mental Health Board. However, despite all the rumours of rivalry, Hotch had witnessed the compassion of Max Pentall and his people were prepared to help the senior profiler towards retirement. Hotch was thankful because he really would not have liked to have seen his friend and colleague before a disciplinary board over his behaviour towards Reid.

The Unit Chief leaned back into his chair and thought back to the filmed statement Reid had made and how the young genius had changed since his return and now seemed more at ease with his innate abilities. Max obviously saw his potential for the psych department but he was wise enough to stand back and give the agent the necessary training and experience while he still worked as a profiler. He couldn't understand why Gideon didn't like Max other than knowing that Max didn't like Gideon for also working for the CIA. It was strange but Hotch had not had much personal contact with Max until this year and he had found him helpful and supportive. He was a man who genuinely thought that things could be improved for agents and wasn't afraid to fight for better a understanding of the stresses that FBI personnel experienced.

Hotch knew in his gut that the BAU was in trouble. The financial settlement for the Bureau had been far less than they had wanted and every department was fighting its corner to keep any cuts to the minimum. He wondered just what they could do to the unit…Cut its use of the jet, it was an expensive item but it cut down the time to get to far flung states. Before the luxury of the jet they had used the commercial flights and sometimes had not even found themselves sitting together so no work could be done during the flight. But then Gideon's team had won respect for its successes and the trial of the jet for a year had become standard travel for them. However, they might find themselves with cuts in personnel and that would mean the away team spending more time at their desks doing more routine profiles, like the ones Barry oversaw in his running of the bullpen while Hotch was in the field. Perhaps two smaller departments would be placed under one unit chief and he might find himself moved else where, especially if they decided to cut the use of the away team or consider disbanding it altogether. Hotch thought he was getting paranoid about his position and decided that he should have a chat to Gideon to see if he had any ideas about the present situation.

Hotch got up and wandered off towards Gideon's office but he could see that the room was dark.

"Looking for Gideon?" Agent Paressi asked her boss as she walked past carrying several files ready to be returned to 'store' and eventually transferred to the vast computerised archive.

"Yes, is he still about?"

"I thought I saw him leaving about 50 minutes ago…well he had his coat on and he was walking briskly towards the elevators…" she replied hoping that she had not got the senior profiler in trouble.

Hotch smiled ruefully, "It's Friday night and we have had a hard week, I don't resent my people going home when they have done their work…I suppose I should get going soon myself but I'll give him a quick call first."

Paressi smiled and nodded, her boss didn't seem upset so everything must be all right.

Meanwhile, Jason Gideon stood in a florist shop trying to make up his mind but the wonderful selection of shape and colour only intensified his indecision. Sammy, the florist, was bemused by the man who she had not served before. However, another potential customer was not very patient with the older man's dithering.

Suddenly Gideon's cell sounded and he took it from his pocket automatically checking the caller display and the other customer's annoyance boiled over.

"Back off pal," Gideon warned softly as he brought the cell to his ear.

"What did I do?" Hotch asked puzzled by Gideon's tone.

"I wasn't taking to you… I guess roses…" Gideon said to Sammy who then went over to the containers holding a variety of different coloured roses. Sammy smiled and indicated with her hands as to which colour, or colours, would he like? Gideon inwardly groaned he couldn't remember buying flowers as being so difficult.

"Are you on a date?" Hotch asked suspiciously but there was warm humour in his voice as he spoke.

"No..um.." he said to Hotch but then continued to Sammy, "Hold on …hold on the roses will you…" and Sammy stopped her attempts to gather a bouquet together.

"And you didn't tell me?" continued Hotch amused at the older man's fumbling over such a task.

"Tell you what? I'm not on a date, I'm just buying flowers," Gideon stated but he felt that Reid would probably accomplish the task better than his feeble attempt.

"For who?" Hotch's voice continued to chip away at Gideon's embarrassment at being caught buying flowers.

"Old college friend. Hotch tell me something…Do roses say the wrong thing?"

"What do you want to say?"

"Welcome, hi! Good to see you, sorry I'm so god damn late," said Gideon as he checked his wrist watch which made him feel another wave of guilt for staying behind to finish the last profile request on his desk.

"Roses say more than that," Hotch replied and then overheard a female's voice.

"Face it, Buddy…You want some action, it's the roses," said a bemused Sammy wondering why Friday nights always brought in her most difficult customers.

"She's right!" Hotch added helpfully but Gideon blew out air while he cast his mind back to Sarah's favourite colours and flowers she had liked in the past.

"Do you have a yellow flower…she said they're like um they're like little yellow flowers…They look like dandelions or like weeds, but they're not weeds. They have a little black spot in the middle but they don't have a black spot. They're sort of round and puffy…"

Hotchner smiled as he listened to his senior profiler ramble a description to the poor florist and shook his head in disbelief…Hotch thought even Reid would have done better, perhaps next time Gideon ought to send the genius to get his flowers.

Hotch heard the female voice say, "Button mums!"

"Do you have those? Can I see what those look like?" Gideon continued to fumble his way with uncharacteristic insecurity.

"Yeah," Sammy assured and turned to find the man yellow button mums.

Hotch then heard another man's voice say emphatically, "Mine's a date!"

"I'm not on a date…" he heard Gideon repeat his former statement. Then Gideon's tone changed to one of triumph, "Exactly, well how about some white stuff… and you know make it look happy!"

Sammy couldn't stop the giggle that escaped but her decorum as a florist was fast disappearing with this customer.

"Baby's breath," Sammy said picking out a stem from its vase and showing the exasperating man who she was sure was much loved by the lady destined to have her bouquet.

Gideon was pleased was with the result, "OK…Great! I don't know what else, what ever looks good," he said to the very patient florist and then remembered Hotch, "So what do you need?"

"I got a request from Safe Guard for personnel files on certain agents," Hotch began.

"So it's an annual evaluation, who cares?" replied Gideon in a carefree tone, he thought Hotch was probably getting all worried for nothing about a routine procedure.

"It's six months early, Jason. It's not a routine evaluation…I think it's an assessment of the BAU. They're redistributing funds, they're making cuts in all departments…" Hotch quietly explained.

"So what are they going to take…the jet? I prefer trains anyway," he soothed.

"Well I think we may loose more than that. It's been a hard year for us, Jason. You know…what happened to Morgan in Chicago. We both know about Reid's issues…Elle Greenaway's suspect kill…It all adds up…"

"To what?" demanded Gideon.

"The only file they didn't request was mine…"

"30 dollars! What you kidding me!" said Gideon to the florist but he held the cell between his chin and shoulder and got the money from his wallet.

"You should have seen the price of the roses," Sammy replied and wondered when he last bought a bouquet.

"Oh Lord, thanks…" said Gideon taking hold of the bouquet and moved out onto the sidewalk to continue his conversation with Hotch.

"Hey Hotch, you're the best Unit Chief I know," he tried to reassure the obviously concerned man on the phone.

Hotch patiently replied, "I'm the only Unit Chief you know," and Gideon suddenly realised that his simple platitudes were not working.

"Look you need a break. Go home, kiss your family and…" suddenly Gideon stopped his walking and stared at the woman across the street. She looked totally out of place in her faded old-fashioned clothes and untidy hair, smoking a cigarette and looking intently around her while she hunched into herself in a defensive posture.

"Impossible," Gideon whispered at the sight of Crazy Jane and a myriad of thoughts about the last time that he'd seen her rushed into his consciousness. But then a group of pedestrians worked in front of her and when they had passed, Jane was no longer there.

"What?" asked Hotch sensing a sudden change.

Gideon shook his head to clear his thoughts and wiped his hand over his eyes, he had been working too hard and needed a restful weekend, "I thought…never mind…"

"We all need a break Jason," Hotch replied hoping the older man was all right, the sudden change was even more marked considering how happy he had sounded only a few minutes before.

"Yeah," the older man replied but he sounded very subdued.

"But mums are something you give your mother," Hotch gently said again with a hint of humour wanting to raise the older man's spirits.

Gideon looked down at the flowers and felt as if someone had just pulled the plug on his excitement about the coming evening.

He turned his thoughts once more to the call, "Yeah…Goodnight."

"Goodnight…Have fun," Hotch replied and heard the line go dead. He hoped that Gideon was going to enjoy his weekend and that the lady would appreciate her mums.

Gideon felt unsettled by what he thought had been a glimpse of Crazy Jane but he couldn't see her now, perhaps it had just been his tired brain playing nasty tricks with him. Gideon began to walk again but his cell rang once more. He automatically checked the display and saw it was a call from Sarah and his heart skipped and lightened at the thought of seeing her soon even if he was going to have to apologise for his tardiness as the display read 6:58 p.m.

"Sarah! Sorry I'm late, I got caught up at the office," he said thinking how many times he had told a woman that in the past.

But then his world fell apart with the voice he heard…

"What's your fascination with birds Jason?"

Gideon's thoughts raced, that voice was mocking, taunting him, goading him and the fear exploded inside Jason…

"Frank. Please…please don't hurt her…" he heard himself plead and was not listening to the other man's taunting….

"She's innocent…She's somebody I knew a long time ago…" he heard himself try to explain but in his heart he knew that a psychopath like Frank could not empathise with another's pain. He had to concentrate perhaps there was still time…

"Are you obsessional, Jason. Do you lie awake at night and think about the bird that got away?"

"Please Frank, Please don't involve her…"

"Have you seen my Jane lately, Jason? I know she came here, to Washington…to find you," Frank finished in an accusing tone.

Gideon felt sick, his heart was pounding and his head throbbed as he tried to control his wild thoughts about this murderer, praying that Sarah was unharmed.

"Frank…" he began perhaps he could reason with him, he had managed to save the children in Nevada.

"I want her back!" came Frank's demand and then suddenly the call was abruptly ended with only the dial tone droning on. Gideon was momentarily stunned by the call and his denial of the possible consequences for Sarah. The flowers fell to the sidewalk as numbness took over as Gideon tried to force his brain to think even to get his body to function…he had one over riding thought…He had to get home to help Sarah.

Hotch had been at home, relaxing with Hayley and enjoying his belated meal when he received a page requesting the BAU at 181 Arthur Street. Hotch was alarmed as he recognised Gideon's home address and immediately rang his cell but he received no reply. Hotch used his car's siren to clear the traffic as he sped along. He had already rung Anderson to contact the rest of the team with the same message. The Unit Chief was puzzled as he tried to concentrate on his speed driving but there were the nagging thoughts about the last few words that he had exchanged with his senior profiler.

When Hotch arrived he found a bloody crime scene that was already swarming with police… He had been to Gideon's apartment before, it was a warm and comfortable home that reflected the man's interests in ornithology and trains, his love of big band music and reflective classical. Gideon was a great cook and he remembered how he had cooked for the Hotchners a delicious Sunday lunch before Jack had been born because Gideon felt it would be nice for Hayley to be waited upon in her advanced state. It was a kind gesture, as Hayley had not liked dining out when she felt enormous and all too easily tired. Gideon had insisted on her putting her feet up and was even delighted when she did dose for a while after eating because, as far as Gideon was concerned, that showed that she was relaxed enough to be herself and sleep.

But now there were blood splattered walls, a table set for a meal that was never served and there was Gideon's cell, which explained why he had not answered his attempt to call him after the page. The once calm and cultured home was ravaged by a terrible act of violence. Everything that had happened here was so out of character with the man who cherished life and treated women with warmth and respect. This apartment would now be stained by the heinous crime that had been committed here but Hotch believed that Gideon had not been the perpetrator of that crime.

The Maryland Police were courteous but it was their crime scene. Hotch explained his position and that he'd received a page summoning him here and that the rest of the team would arrive shortly. Hotch assured them that they would not get in the way but they did need to find Agent Gideon to find out what had happened. The detective in charge understood but they needed to speak to Agent Gideon as soon as possible, who had last been seen running down the street brandishing a gun and covered in blood and there was a woman dead on his blood sodden bed.

Morgan had been the first of the team to arrive, and immediately defended Gideon in his absence and then Reid, with Jareau on his heels, came through the door. Hotch filled them in with all he knew which was very little.

Hotch addressed his team very quietly, "They have 6 witnesses who saw him running down the street covered in blood, wielding a gun."

Morgan immediately replied, "OK he was probably chasing the son of a bitch who did this."

Hotch informed the team that because of conflict of interest they were not to get in the way of the MPD who saw Gideon as a suspect but he was their colleague and probably needed their help at that moment.

"Well who spoke to him last?" asked the impatient Morgan who was hyper alert and ready to do something to help Gideon.

"I did about 2 hours ago now," Hotch quietly replied and nodded his greeting to Prentiss as she walked in and looked appalled at the sight she glimpsed of the bedroom scene.

"What did he say?" Reid softly asked.

"That he was late for a date," replied Hotch sadly remembering the older man's attempts to buy flowers.

Reid nodded and walked thoughtfully, with his hands in his pockets, into the bedroom doorway, but remained out of the way of the crime scene officers as they worked. He thought that this was the last thing that Gideon needed to happen to him at this moment. He had seemed to be picking up his life again and was ready to think about a future away from the BAU, perhaps with this murdered woman, but this could tip his old mentor into a depression and one that he might not be able to work himself out from. Reid had spoken briefly to Don, only that morning, as he delivered his group dynamics report to the Mental Health department. Don had listened intently as he had recalled the Chaplin films and quietly thanked him because it was another piece in the complex jigsaw that was Jason Gideon who Don was trying to keep under his protective wing.

Reid heard Hotch tell the others that she was an old college friend, Sarah Jacobs, and that they were there to answer any questions the MPD might ask. However, Hotch quietly added that although they could not officially investigate this they needed to assess what they could of the situation, while they could, and try to find Gideon.

Reid returned to the group and reported on his observations, "Evisceration of the torso, removal of various organs. The guy's clearly a sexually sadistic psychopath."

"He's well versed with a scalpel. He's done this before …We need to get some photos…" Prentiss added who had stood beside Reid to make her own assessment of the bedroom scene.

Hotch nodded tightly and turned to Jareau, "J.J. your cell phone, get as many as you can as quickly as you can…Get them to Garcia."

Jareau nodded her understanding and set to work while her colleagues were mentally noting any thing that might help them understand the crime and who perpetrated the horrendous scene before them.

There was no forced entry so they concluded that the murderer had been let in, probably by Sarah who was expecting Gideon so didn't even check the spyhole when the bell sounded. There did not appear to be any visible defensive wounds so everything had happened very quickly, perhaps it was an opportunistic crime. The murderer had come to find Gideon but found the woman alone and, being a sexual sadist, the psychopath felt the overwhelming desire to kill the woman. Unfortunately, Sarah Jacobs had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

They were allowed to view the body before the ME's team took it away for further examination. The team felt a strange sense of foreboding as the body reminded them of another case but none wanted to voice their fears outright. Then they noticed the small bone tucked into the curled fingers and on closer inspection they saw that it was a small rib bone.

Morgan could not keep the name from his lips, "Frank is back…" he whispered and the team's silent gaze upon him confirmed their agreement.

Reid broke the spell, "If this is who we think it is, he took the rib bones as gifts to give to Jane…"

"And yet this one he gave back to Sarah, why?" interjected Prentiss.

"It's not for Sarah, it's for us…it's a message," Hotch replied, as he felt a tightening around his heart like an ice cold hand constricting its movement; Hotch was scared for Gideon, not just for his life but for his sanity.

Prentiss told Hotch that they ought to tell the police about their thinking but Hotch firmly told her to wait because they probably wouldn't find any proof of Frank being in the apartment, as he probably hadn't left any DNA there. Hotch quietly argued with her that the crime scene could be interpreted in several ways and all of them could indicate Gideon. While Frank was on the loose they didn't have the time to stop and explain their theories to the police. Prentiss was unhappy about this lack of co-operation with the MPD but they were already speculating why Frank had come. The team felt that something had changed for Frank and that implied it had also something to do with Jane.

Morgan was eager to be doing something and he and Prentiss left to see if they could work out which way Gideon had gone in the street. Spencer followed but he kept his distance and went in the opposite direction. As they left, Hotch's cell sounded and as he checked the ID found it was a payphone. He was relieved that it was Gideon but he had to be careful not to arouse the attention of the MPD. A distressed Gideon told him that the crowded streets had prevented him from taking a shot at Frank and that he had seen him drop something into the trash. He also told him that Jane was no longer with Frank and he thought he had seen her earlier while buying the flowers and talking to Hotch on the phone.

Gideon explained the call from Frank, "It's my fault. It's me he wanted and if I hadn't been late…she'd still be alive…He butchered her Hotch."

Gideon was going to hand himself in but Hotch counselled against such a move,

"Do that and this investigation moves inside an interrogation room and by the time the cops catch up, we're going to be looking at more dead bodies…" Hotch said and further explained that he needed Gideon to help catch Frank because they didn't know who he really was, nor where he was here out of his comfort zone and where was Jane and what had happened between them? Gideon understood but he needed his files on Frank. Hotch said that he would organise Garcia to get them while Gideon had to find a quiet safe place where he could work upon the case.

Reid took out his cell when out on the street and well away from the other agents and dialled a number he'd not used for weeks.

Max Pentall was enjoying a cup of freshly brewed Brazilian coffee and chatting amiably to his guests who had enjoyed the dinner and lively conversation that was usually present in the Pentall house. Then his cell sounded and he caught Anna's look of ' I knew this week was going too well'. Max excused himself as he was already heading out of the room but his guests were old acquaintances and used to such things.

What really puzzled Max was the caller ID, he wondered why Spencer Reid was calling him at 9:30 on a Friday night when he thought he was happy with his lady these days.

"Yes Spencer," Max said quietly has he closed the lounge door and headed across the hallway to his study for complete privacy.

"Max, Gideon's in trouble…and Hotch is having to make some difficult field decisions to help him," Reid said trying to sum up his own unease about everything he'd witnessed in the apartment.

Max sank down into his leather chair and calmly asked, "Can you speak freely?"

"Yeah, I'm out on the street in the opposite direction to Prentiss and Morgan. Max… Gideon's girlfriend has been murdered in his apartment and we think its Frank…the guy we let go because of the children in the Nevada desert …it has all the marks of his M.O. There was no sign of Gideon but I think he paged Hotch to come and that's why we all got called in. The MPD were at the apartment doing all the right things but Hotch isn't telling them everything we know because we need to find Gideon in order to use his knowledge to stop Frank. Prentiss is already uneasy about keeping the MPD out of the loop…"

"I understand, there would be conflict of interest for the BAU to be officially investigating but I can see Hotch's reasoning…"

"Yeah, I know but I'm concerned about Gideon's mental stability. He was keeping this relationship very quiet. I don't think even Hotch knew it had been going on for some weeks…But Max, there was no forced entry, no defence wounds and there was a laid table… she had prepared a dinner for two…So Gideon had given her his apartment key. Now that's something he wouldn't do unless he totally trusted the woman." Reid spoke quickly and remained alert, not knowing when his colleagues might come up to him or call him over to them.

Max nodded to himself seeing how this situation could get out of hand if the police realised that they were withholding information, "Spencer do you have a key to Gideon's apartment?"

"No…I have one to his cabin but his home is something else, his very private sanctuary," he replied.

"I'm sorry I had to ask that but I was trying to understand Gideon's idea of privacy and I know he trusts you a lot, probably the most, alongside Hotch on the team. So what are the team doing?"

"Hotch ordered J.J. to discreetly take photos with her cell phone and Garcia has been called back to process them for clues of where Gideon or Frank might be. There were witness reports of Gideon running down the street with a gun and with blood on his hands…But I suspect he had touched Sarah…you know the girlfriend…

Morgan was needing to be doing something to get rid of some of his pent up energy…he and Prentiss are checking the street one way and I went the other but there is no sign of him. Perhaps if Frank came looking for Gideon they have already found each other I don't know, but Gideon didn't take his cell…it was on the dining table."

"Ok, I get the picture, I'll see if I can cover Hotch's back this end. Try and keep me quietly informed of what's happening. I'm going into Quantico now, and Spencer, you did the right thing to call me. Hotch is trying to find Gideon before the police so Gideon is working on the case rather than in a police interrogation room trying to explain his actions…"

"Yeah, I've got to go I can see Prentiss and she might get suspicious."

Reid quickly replaced his cell in his pocket and walked briskly towards where Prentiss and Morgan were now standing.

"I don't feel comfortable with not telling the police what we suspect…"

"Look, Hotch is trying to make the best judgements…We need to find Gideon before the police or we won't be able to use his expertise to understand what happened here…Gideon didn't do this!" Morgan said emphatically and stared hard at the woman who was suddenly being 'by the book' over their colleague.

Prentiss swallowed and met the accusing eyes, and wondered if she was being disloyal to their absent colleague, "I know Gideon didn't do this, but there are procedures to follow and if the police decide that we're blocking their investigation then we'll all be in trouble."

Reid caught up with his colleagues and gave them a questioning look.

"Nothing," said Morgan in disgust and with a tone that reflected his frustration, "Are you going to start on why we should be telling the police what we know?" he added staring hard at the bemused Reid.

"Hotch is a trained lawyer and the Unit Chief, he knows what he's doing walking this very tight line we find ourselves balancing on," Reid replied quietly but he hoped that his call to Max wouldn't be judged as disloyalty because he was concerned for both the team's senior agents.

Just then Hotchner appeared in routine protective gloves and carrying a white plastic bag.

"Gideon said Frank dumped it en route…" he answered his three agents unasked question.

Prentiss immediately picked up on the implication that he had spoken to the suspect. The three men all noticed her tone and big unbelieving eyes as she said, "You spoke to Gideon!"

"Where is he, Hotch?" questioned the worried Morgan.

Hotch gave them a closed look and said, "He's safe."

"Well that's all the proof we need, right? We turn him over to the MPD now," Prentiss stated and saw a flash of anger and exasperation in Hotch's face but his voice was deadly calm.

"By the time this comes back from the lab, Frank's long gone…" he answered Prentiss gesturing to the plastic bag. He was getting annoyed with Prentiss questioning his every move and thought an agent of her experience would understand the situation especially as she had made some "questionable field decisions" back in the Mid-West.

But Morgan began to feel uneasy about this stance, "If the cops find out we're hiding evidence and a material witness from them…"

Hotch interjected to stop any rebellion forming in his team, "We're not hiding evidence. We'll give this to forensics…let them search for DNA. We'll look for Frank."

Then a skinny adolescent kid on a skateboard came up looking for Agent Morgan with a message that the agent immediately recognised was from Frank, which ended with the chilling words,

"Give me Jane or I'll kill them all," repeated the kid and then demanded his payment of 10 bucks.

"Frank thinks we have Jane?" Morgan said trying to make some meaningful connections.

"We need to find her fast," replied Hotch but not really knowing where to start at that particular moment.

However, it was Reid who re-focussed the agents upon the chilling part of the message,

"He said 'I'll kill them all…who's he referring to?" The agents stared back at him each feeling very uncomfortable with the ensuing silence.

Meanwhile Agent Jareau had returned to the BAU office to continue searching for clues from the pictures she had sent Garcia. Garcia herself had already left to meet up with Gideon following Hotch's instructions to the letter.

The pictures were scattered over the round table and the one on top had a 'post-stick' message from Garcia on it for J.J. to 'check it'. Jareau remembered looking over a detective's shoulder to get the sneaky picture of the black leather bound notebook that seemed to be so interesting to the cop. Looking at the enhanced image she could see that a page had been torn out, but most of all she recognised Gideon's writing. She rang the others and Prentiss put her phone on 'speaker' and Jareau described the image before her. Hotch immediately recognised it has Gideon's murder book which only alarmed Prentiss and Hotch calmly explained that it was a reminder to the profiler of "why he does, what he does,"

Reid added helpfully to re-assure the woman, "It's a list of all the people he's ever saved; names, dates, personal details…" and Reid was pleased to see Emily nod in understanding and that her initial reaction to the label 'murder book' was not to be taken that literally.

"And now Frank has the list," said Hotch numbly.

"Frank said 'I'll kill them all'…they're who he's going after…" added Reid.

Hotch thought quickly and told J.J, that they had to locate the possible targets and warn them but at least the targets, out of necessity, had to be narrowed down to the capital area.

"Do we tell Gideon?" asked Morgan and Hotch saw Prentiss alert for his reply.

"Absolutely not. We need to find out who Frank is first," Hotch firmly stated and Prentiss let out the breath she was holding but this whole lack of co-operation with the investigating force was making her very tense.

Reid listened and observed and was pleased to hear Hotch instruct J.J. to liase with the police over their belief that Frank and Jane were possible material witnesses and instructed her to pass on their photographs for circulation to the media aswell. He further noticed how Prentiss visibly eased at Hotch's moves and hoped that she would trust their Unit Chief to make the best possible decisions for the most successful outcome. However, Hotch also instructed that Jareau was to try and locate Jane and to make sure that they interrogated her first and preferably not to let the police get to her.

Morgan and Prentiss both looked unhappy at this order but it was Morgan who voiced his concern, "Is that wise?"

"No," conceded Hotch, "But that's an order. Whatever you do get her to Quantico first, she's the only one who knows who Frank is."

Hotch knew he was treading a very fine line but they also knew that Frank was a dangerous psychopath and capable of intelligent moves. Frank had out manoeuvred them in Nevada and got away and they still didn't know his real identity so they were fumbling around not knowing where he considered his safe zone in this area.

They travelled back to the BAU in their individual cars. This gave Reid the opportunity to call Max and tell him the latest developments. Back in the conference room, J.J. had pictures of the people Gideon considered his surviving successes scattered on the round table, including some of the framed photos from Gideon's office. The agents arrived to help Jareau find the possible targets.

Meanwhile, Penelope Garcia had dutifully followed Hotch's orders. She had gone to Gideon's office and taken his overnight case and placed it into her car along with a file from his filing cabinet merely labelled 'FRANK' and a down loaded copy of the Nevada case file from the computerised archives. She had taken her laptop and carefully placed her 'baby' in the boot before locking it. Garcia then drove to a lonely and poorly lit street off one of the main Washington thorough fares and waited. She felt very vulnerable in her beloved red convertible and began to imagine all sorts of violent happenings in the neighbourhood and to her specifically. Suddenly the passenger door opened and Gideon swiftly sank down into the seat, trying to cover his face from any passing observers or surveillance cameras that may be operating in the area. He tersely instructed the very nervous Garcia to drive and she felt that she had to get this right especially after her stupid actions over Reid's personal medical records. She was still intent on rebuilding her lost kudos within the department and FBI computing as a whole.

Gideon told her to drive to a back entrance of the Smithsonian and there he rang the bell of a side door. The light from within shone on a grey haired kindly looking man as he opened the door almost immediately and Garcia thought that he had probably been waiting for them. He took them to a second floor corridor and stopped outside the men's washroom to allow Gideon to tidy himself up. It was only then that Garcia had noted the dried blood on his hands and clothing and felt a little sick at the thought of the pictures she had computer enhanced of the carnage in the senior profiler's apartment. Garcia also noticed how suddenly old the profiler looked and a little bent as if the recent events were physically weighing down on him.

Gideon said very little but nodded his thanks to Samuel, the curator of this section, and Garcia sensed an old friendship between the two men. Once Gideon had taken his case into the washroom Samuel turned and gently asked if she needed anything to help find the murderer of Gideon's friend.

"As long as I have a table for my laptop and a place to quietly work in then that's all I need," she replied and Samuel gave her a sad understanding smile. Garcia instinctively trusted this man and wondered if Hotch would want her to tell him where they were or to only tell him if asked. She knew that what they were doing was outside the normally accepted procedure of things, but it was Hotch who had given her the orders and she felt that he never did things unless they were necessary.

Gideon washed and changed his clothes. He had looked in the mirror only to find the face of Frank staring back at him and he had clamped down hard on his memories of this evening to stop them overwhelming him. He could not give into the grief he wanted to feel until Frank was caught and this was now his only aim in life, he even consciously stopped himself wallowing in self recriminations over letting Frank get the better of them back in Nevada. Back then, he had needed to save the children and it had meant making a pact with the devil but this price he was demanding was not part of the deal they had struck. Gideon shut the case lid on the soiled clothes and used all his mental strength to school himself to a calm demeanour. Gideon knew he had the most important task in the world to complete and he must not fail.

Samuel quietly took them to a large room that he said was usually used for preparing future exhibitions. He assured the pair that they would not be disturbed but security did know they were there. He also told Garcia that through the far door was a small kitchenette so they could make themselves drinks and also a tiny washroom so they would be totally self-contained. Garcia thanked Samuel again for his thoughtfulness and scanned the room; it was quite spacious with a big dark oak table dominating the space.

Gideon nodded absently glancing around the walls at the charts and a part of his brain mocked him as he registered the theme of predators…Frank was a cold bloodied predator but now Gideon had to turn predator himself to find the real identity of the man. Garcia put her laptop on the large table and began to get herself organised but she always felt unsure and out of her depth with this man in normal circumstances. Penelope Garcia wished the genius had been given this task to baby sit Gideon and assist his search for the real identity of Frank because she didn't understand Gideon's thinking processes.

Meanwhile back at the BAU, the agents began contacting the possible nine targets they had identified. The 'targets' were warned not to be alone and were advised to leave for another safe address as soon as possible until they were contacted again and told it was safe to return home.

J.J. dialled the number and Rebecca Bryant answered her phone. As Agent Jareau identified herself Rebecca knew that the doubts she had been feeling about the man in her kitchen were true.

"He's not Agent Gideon is he?" Rebecca said softly and J.J. hit the speaker so the rest of the room could hear.

"Rebecca just put down the phone and walk out as calmly as possible," J.J. said but her heartbeat quickened, as she felt for the woman alone with the psychopath. There was silence as Rebecca froze in panic wondering who she had let into her home.

Hotch acted quickly, calmly saying, "Rebecca, this is Agent Hotchner. If you can very calmly excuse yourself and get out of the house…Can you do that?" he said praying that the woman was moving but there was no reply and they sensed her panic. J.J. stepped in again with her calm female voice to repeat Hotch's instructions.

"What's going on?" Rebecca asked and J.J. prayed that Frank had not heard her.

The conference room was too quiet everyone strained to hear; there was a faint shuffling and a gasp. Jareau and Prentiss exchanged glances of female concern knowing how vulnerable women really were no matter how much they tried to equip themselves with self defence classes and guns…

"Rebecca!" J.J. repeated praying that she had been able to get away but in her heart she dreaded the worst for the young woman.

"Rebecca?" repeated Hotch but the indistinct sounds from the phone were meaningless and then the room froze.

"Hi! I regret to inform you that Rebecca's name should be moved to a new list." The man's voice smoothly stated.

"Frank! We don't have her, we do not have Jane," stated Hotch clearly in an attempt to halt Frank's butchery.

"I will not stop until I have her back," Frank calmly stated and hung up.

The conference room moved as one, Morgan informing them that he had contacted the local police but they didn't want to admit openly that Rebecca would probably be dead by the time help reached her. When they got to her home they found a familiar carnage and Hotch felt he had failed to stop another innocents death. However, as much as he mentally argued with himself, Hotch still couldn't see how turning Gideon over to the MPD could have prevented Rebecca's death either.

Morgan tried to console him by saying that they couldn't have stopped Frank but it still didn't stop Hotch feeling that this was all so senseless. However, Prentiss had gone to examine the body more closely and had found a note clutched in Rebecca's hand, and gently removed it.

"Sunday, 7 a.m. Union Street Station"

"All eight other targets on the list have been contacted and accounted for," Reid reminded his boss while his mind knew that there was more to this and they had failed to see it.

Hotch was puzzled, "Then we've missed someone or something now that he's set a meeting."

Morgan remembered the Nevada case all too vividly, "He's going to raise the stakes just like he did last time…He's going to make it impossible for us not to trade for Jane for whoever he has got. O.K. What have we missed?" asked Morgan thinking over the steps they had taken for any gaps in their logic.

Reid began to think out loud to kick-start the group's brainstorming, "Frank's incapable of experiencing normal feelings…"

"Yeah but he takes what normal people hold sacred," Morgan instantly replied.

"Children!" gasped Prentiss and then felt sick at the thought remembering the last encounter with Frank in Nevada.

Hotch turned to Reid and Prentiss and told them to get back to Quantico to help Jareau identify possible child targets. Hotch then contacted J.J. to fill her in on the latest developments. He told her to look for any old cases involving children within the target area and to also include those who had relocated to the capital area since their case. Then Hotch remained at the house with Morgan waiting for the crime scene unit and thought over the decisions he had made. Morgan was right they could not have prevented any of this, they were dealing with a very intelligent psychopath and at the moment he was calling the tune but perhaps Jane would hold the key if only they could find her.

Prentiss drove and Reid sat quietly thinking about whom Frank could take as a hostage to exchange for Jane. They all hated cases that involved children, they were the most vulnerable and a murdered child seemed to have more impact on the agents and the wider society than an adult's death. He thought how strange society's values were; on the one hand society appeared to want to protect children and keep them sheltered from the realities of adult life. But on the other, children were bombarded every day with adult images and these were an erosion of the childlike world that the other side of the coin wanted to protect. He thought it odd, but then he had not had a normal childhood, however he had read and observed the society around him and noted that there were continually mixed messages about how society viewed its future adults.

Reid thought about Craig's children who were the closest he had to regular contact with small children. He considered Craig and Melinda very good parents and they obviously thought carefully about the values that they wanted their children to experience and hopefully to respect. Their children were not too spoilt but then he smiled to himself, he and Jo spoilt Ben and Lydia a little bit. But they never went to any extreme and it was usually a little indulgence like the extra ice cream or the giving in to the one more story or cartoon video when they were babysitting for them. Melinda knew but he surmised that their parents expected this from their immediate relations and never made a fuss about it because, at the end of the day, Jo and himself did have a line that was not passed and the older Lydia knew that.

"You're quiet," Prentiss suddenly said and Spencer felt a little guilty for not talking to her because she was feeling very uneasy about the case as a whole.

"Sorry, I was thinking about children…and how society sends mixed messages," he replied truthfully.

"Oh boy! Don't we just," agreed Prentiss and wondered what had started him on this line of thinking in the first place, " George has three children from his first marriage, their mother died a few years ago but the youngest is just entering the difficult 13 year old stage. Her older brother and sister are away at university so she's the baby of the family. Sometimes it suits her to like this position and at others she's the little minx and complaining that she's not a baby anymore…George is very good with her, I suppose because he's been there before with her older sister. But I must admit, I cope with her in small doses and she's a nice girl who can be very sensitive and amusing with her take on things…Do you ever think about having children?" she suddenly asked and Spencer felt like a startled rabbit with no escape.

"Well…I sometimes think about it, especially when I'm with friends who have children…I guess that's a natural reaction," he admitted, "Jo and I have never seriously talked about the subject but I met her at her brothers and she was playing with his children and seemed very natural. I guess she'd like children one day but I don't think it's something you should hurry into. You know, there seems to be so much you want to do as a couple which would be difficult if we had a child at the moment," he stopped wondering if he was making any sense.

"Yeah, it's difficult isn't it. I mean because of my age I sometimes get a bit broody…I don't know if you can understand that Reid," she said with humour and Spencer was pleased that she seemed relaxed enough to let the lighter side of her personality surface again. "But I think George is content with his three and, if our relationship continues, it's the best of both worlds for me because I get to have a ready made family unit who all treat me well and I get to keep my career without feeling guilty. I honestly don't think I could work with a young child…I think I would want to be around and watch them grow up until at least they went off to school and began to make those strides in independence…But things are different for you men."

"Yeah," was all Spencer could manage as his mind thought about it. Perhaps Jo might one day bring up the subject…The most probable time would be if he got hurt on duty, it was well known that women got more broody after near misses with their partner's lives. He had heard other agents talking about how their women had wanted a baby so they had a part of the man to love in case they didn't come back or the very fact of seeing them hurt made them realise how fragile life could be. But then near misses with death could influence the male psyche aswell. His experiences at the hands of Tobias Hankel had made him more aware of his life and that he didn't want to be alone anymore. It was at this time that he had decided to be more active about seeking out a partner when he had finally met Craig's sister.

"I wonder how much Frank told Jane about himself?" Spencer suddenly said deciding to take the conversation away from very personal matters.

"Yeah it's an odd relationship between a psychopath and someone with definite learning and social problems…He probably totally dominates her…but I just didn't understand the attraction in Nevada and I still don't," confessed Prentiss.

Spencer smiled and thought about a possible answer, "It's difficult sometimes to understand the attraction between two normal people and because of what we think we see. But if you think about our parents…can we really understand what the attraction was? We are ourselves attracted to certain people more than others, usually because we feel more comfortable in the presence of certain personality traits. It's a preference that doesn't stop us mixing within the circle of those of different personalities, indeed some people even feel strongly attracted to those who appear totally the opposite to themselves. I think as profilers, we can sometimes forget that it is not an accurate science. The human element of dealing with the individual means that we can point in a direction but there are a lot of other variables that we don't know about that are influencing the decisions of both victims and perpetrators at a particular moment in time."

"If that's the case then why are you doing this job if there is such an element of doubt in the very profiling we do?" challenged Emily who was enjoying this unexpected intellectual conversation about their work.

"There is an element of the unknown in our lives for everyday we live," Spencer said softly, "We try and make sense of our lives by the rules that work for us during our interactions with the rest of lawful society. It would be very boring if we could only act along totally predictable lines and civilisation would stagnate because the individuals who think outside the box would be shunned and not encouraged to contribute their ideas. Civilisation only progresses with the vision of those who refuse to be totally bound by the accepted view. For example, the effect of thinking beyond the absolutism of the Popes in medieval Europe, the Reformation lead to a whole new outlook and freed the mind to explore beyond the accepted line."

"You should have been a philosopher!" Emily announced, "But I see your reasoning, but you gave up theoretical mathematics and physics for psychology?"

"I still think about them but then I wanted something to ground me to the reality of the world in which I lived…so I did a doctorate in Criminal Psychology and ended up under Gideon! So I guess I deal with the worst of reality but then so far I've never walked an easy path in my life!" he replied in his light tone of self deprecating humour, but Emily felt that this was the closest she had ever got to the real Spencer Reid.

Prentiss turned into the Quantico complex, it was nearly midnight and they were all running on adrenaline. J.J. was grateful for their appearance; especially Reid because his memory of cases began to narrow down the workload particularly with cases before she had arrived to work at the BAU.

Three floors above them, Max Pentall sat talking to the Director about the actions Aaron Hotchner had made following the murder of Agent Gideon's girlfriend. The Director sat quietly listening to the role that Agent Reid had taken by informing Max of the situation.

"So the rest of the team don't know about his call to you?"

"No, he was concerned that someone ought to know and instinctively wouldn't tell Strauss who feels that the team are allowed far too much lee way as it is compared with other departments."

"She does have a point but then the BAU doesn't deal with nice neat situations and the people they manage to catch are usually considered monsters by the rest of society," the Director said in understanding. "You're thinking that Strauss will use this against Hotchner?"

"Yes, she wants to put her own person in that chair…"

"Well she's probably going to find that difficult as not many people want the BAU. Lets face it Max, those people get so used to profiling that we think they never switch off and profile the rest of us…"

Max smiled, "Oh that's what we psychs do…its like breathing to us!"

"Yes, well that Dr. Reid with all his feigned diffidence scares the hell out of me…I often wonder what's going on in his mind…I'm surprised that Strauss hasn't manoeuvred him out of her sphere…Oh I forgot, he's got one foot in your camp!"

"Yes, which is why he rang me," Max replied and he was already thinking of ways to protect Reid if Strauss began to try and place him well away from Quantico.

"Good man…I hope Hotch appreciates his actions when he finds out," the Director replied.

"What are we going to do about Gideon?" Max asked re-focussing the Director's thoughts.

"Do you know where he is?"

"Hotch hasn't told the team but I had computer security check the whereabouts of Garcia's laptop …The Smithsonian!" Max replied.

"Ah…Samuel, one of the curator's there and an ornithologist friend of Gideon's, very sensible man, he's safe there. I would leave him there for now and let him try and gather as much information he can to help us deal with this Frank…Perhaps this time we can catch him."

"I hope so," replied Max thinking about how a very emotionally upset Gideon might act and really get the Bureau in trouble.

The Director read his thoughts, "He wouldn't would he?"

"Reid said that this woman had obviously a key to Gideon's apartment so it was a stronger relationship than he was letting on and Reid didn't think that Hotch had picked up on it," explained Max. The Director began to appreciate even more the sensitive and fast thinking of the young genius. He was loyal to his team but was also considering the wider consequences if things got out of control.

"Go and talk to Hotch, tell him about our conversation and try and assess his feelings over Gideon's state of mind. I thought you said Gideon had spoken to Hotch since the murder."

"Yes,"

The Director nodded, "Hotch is a good man, he's having to make decisions which ordinarily we would never consider but we are dealing with a psychopath and have other members of the public to take into account. If Hotch feels that Gideon is all right where he is, and he's happy with him remaining there, then I will accept his operational decision. Afterall, he has one of the most difficult jobs here and he's very experienced at dealing with these sorts of criminals."

Max returned to his own office and checked with security to see if Hotch was back at Quantico. He was told that the team had left in a hurry and only Prentiss and Reid had returned to join Jareau back in the office. He took his cell and decided to ring Reid.

Spencer's cell sounded and when he checked the ID he excused himself from the women saying that it was a personal call. He slipped into Gideon's office and closed the door.

"Yes, Max?"

"Where's Hotch?"

"Rebecca Bryant has been murdered by Frank in her home. Hotch and Morgan remained at the scene waiting for the crime unit while we were sent back here. We think Frank is going to target a child and use them in exchange for Jane but we haven't found Jane yet…Remember he bargained with children before but he didn't harm them…"

Right so you expect Hotch back any time?"

"Yeah, Frank gave us a meeting time, Sunday, 7 a.m. Union Street Station."

"So we have just over a day to find Jane, and find the next possible target, but we do have the Amber Alert if a child is taken," said Max.

"Yeah, but you don't realise how many child cases Gideon has dealt with until you start checking, I've left the women with a list of 30 in the conference room who they are trying to trace."

"Right, now before you go back to helping them, I've spoken with the Director and I'm under instructions to come and talk to Hotch and assess the situation for him so don't be surprised to see me in the BAU. I won't tell Hotch you rang me but he'll probably reach that conclusion on his own…You all right with that?"

"Yes, I don't regret my actions, I was trying to cover peoples' backs if this hits the fan," Reid replied calmly.

"We are trying to keep a tight hold on things so that doesn't happen Spencer…and Spencer, the Director is pleased with your sensible actions so don't feel guilty."

"I don't, I'll stand by them," Reid said firmly and ended the call. Max thought that the man had a lot of personal integrity and strength to have acted in the way he had this evening. The psychologist sank back in his chair and hoped that no more people were going to become victims of Frank.

Spencer Reid went back into the conference room and began to further scan the archived cases. His fast reading abilities were a considerable asset in these situations and the two women seemed content to make the phone calls.

Twenty minutes later Hotch and Morgan joined them and Spencer had identified another 6 possible targets.

"God, so many," said Hotch, "I guess we just switch off from cases as soon as we can so we can concentrate on the case in hand."

"I've included children who would now be in their early teens, but I suspect Frank will go for someone no older than 10 considering the age of those bus children," Reid explained.

"You've done the right thing," Hotch assured and was about to pick up a print out with name and last known address off the pile when the door opened and he was surprised to see Max Pentall.

"I need to speak to you in your office Hotch," he said quietly. Hotch followed and closed the door.

"What's he doing here? That guy is creepy!" said Morgan.

Reid couldn't help smiling at the remark and Morgan noticed.

"Oh you're going to tell me different?" Morgan challenged the younger man.

"Max is a very good psychologist and he even came to have sessions with me while I was in the Clinic. I found him a very compassionate man and very interesting to talk to. You shouldn't believe all the talk about the rivalries between him and Gideon. They probably have their differences but Max doesn't make everything a personal issue if people disagree with his standpoint," Reid answered wanting Morgan to know that there was a different side to Max.

Morgan didn't reply he just remembered the man who had sat on his disciplinary hearing with Erroll Hart. What Morgan did know was that Pentall didn't usually personally deal with you unless you were very senior or considered an exceptional case. He looked at the genius as he speed-read the computer screen and thought that Reid was the exception.

"What are you doing here?" Hotch demanded as soon as he closed the door to his office.

"The Director sent me to assess the situation," Max replied and watched the man's face register surprise.

"What situation?" Hotch said trying to keep things under wraps as long as possible.

"The death of Gideon's girlfriend in his apartment and the suspect is a serial psychopath we let go when we had him…"

"We had to… there were children involved," Hotch justified and then realised that someone on the team had told the Director or…

"Reid called you," Hotch stated and couldn't keep a hint of anger out of his voice. He was wondering whom he could trust on his team.

"Yes, he rang me worried about Gideon's sanity and your back!" Max replied bluntly, "You have a very loyal agent who cares a lot about this team and knew you were having to make difficult decisions. He did the right thing, you're giving Strauss all the ammunition she needs to get rid of you!"

Hotch sat down in his chair, he felt tired after a full working day and he had been looking forward to an early night and restful weekend. He sighed so far it was all a bloody mess.

"Rebecca Bryant's dead aswell, and he's demanding we find Jane…You read up on the Nevada case?"

"I pulled it as soon as I got in and before I saw the Director. He's backing you and he thinks Reid did the right thing…Reid's got good instincts but he always says he doesn't understand the politics of this place."

Hotch snorted, "Oh yes he does but he just doesn't want to admit it, he likes to play the ostrich with his head in the sand when it comes to Bureau politics!"

"Yes, I don't blame him…our genius keeps a low profile over such matters and would be happy to tread water but I won't let him," Max countered.

Hotch looked up and saw Max's alert face, he knew some of the training changes were Max pushing through his ideas and he thought that the genius had not been pushed to reach his full potential under Gideon.

"What does the Director want to know?" Hotch asked knowing that he would rather have Max working on his side rather than against him.

"How's Gideon?"

"I haven't seen him but he did call me, he'd tried to follow Frank, but lost him in the Friday night crowds. Gideon wanted to hand himself in I but I told him not to because he's the one person who can help us capture Frank. We can't let him escape a second time Max…Two innocent women have already been murdered and he may now be targeting one of the child victims Gideon saved. We know so very little about him and yet it was Gideon who talked with him in Nevada and went along with him for the children. Then there is Jane, we haven't found her yet and she might be able to tell us a lot more about him. Gideon's found a safe place and I sent Garcia to help him,"

"Yes, I know where he is," said Max and smiled ruefully at Hotch's initial shock, "You forgot about the security tags on the laptop that Garcia's using…as soon as she logged on security was able to locate her."

Hotch shook his head to clear his thoughts, it was true he'd forgotten about that. He was tired and beginning to miss things.

"But why the hell didn't you send Reid to be with him…he's a psych Hotch and he'd be able to assess and handle Gideon far better than Garcia?" demanded Max.

"No, I needed Reid on this side of things, he's often the conduit for our thinking as a group," he justified.

"And what if Gideon decides to go off on his own?" challenged Max.

"I'm taking the risk that it's not going to happen especially as he was going to give himself in…"

There was a sharp rap on the door and it opened. Reid looked all alert and addressed Hotch immediately.

"Tracey Belle's home is the only one not responding to our calls, Morgan's informing the police at McLean and he wants to be moving to meet them there." Reid crisply reported.

"You stay here with the women, I'll go with Morgan, continue thinking about possible targets and searching for Jane," Hotch replied moving to the door in swift strides and Reid stepped out of his way as he headed for the elevators. Max saw Morgan running to catch up with his boss.

"Carry on Spencer, I have to report back to the Director," Max said and made his way down the steps.

Spencer nodded as he passed, there wasn't anything he could say but he hated cases that involved children and he was trying to keep focussed on the case rather than worrying about Gideon.

End of Chapter 30


	31. Chapter 31

The In-Between Times: Chapter 31

By Helena Fallon

Reference will be made to 'No Way Out 2:The Evilution of Frank'

Note that the time scale and events have been slightly altered but the essence of the story of this episode is still there. This is my interpretation of events in the context of this story. As usual the standard disclaimer is that I intend no infringement of copyright of the Criminal Minds series but I do claim the intellectual property of my invented characters that appear in my stories.

CMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCM

Reid walked back to the conference room, his hands in his pockets hoping that Gideon was staying focussed on trying to solve the puzzle that was Frank and not emotionally unravelling.

The two women looked expectantly at him as he joined them.

"Hotch has gone with Morgan, we're to continue what we were doing, looking for possible targets and thinking about where Jane might be, " he replied to their questioning looks. But the truth was that they were very tired and the three of them were thinking about Tracey Belle.

"Frank has never harmed a child," Reid reminded them.

"Yeah but what about the adults who might stand in his way?" replied Prentiss but she saw the haunted looks of her colleagues and realised that the thought had crossed their minds aswell.

Back in Washington, Garcia felt that she was being of little use to the profiler. He looked so pale and he seemed to be ageing before her eyes. She instinctively felt that she had to keep him focussed on the unsub Frank. Garcia had got Gideon to tell her about the Nevada case in detail and was pleased when she felt him begin to cling to some points of reference. He now seemed steadier than when they had first arrived and the act of recall had made Gideon talk about his initial assessment of the psychopath and started to organise his thoughts.

Gideon felt very tired, the adrenaline was wearing off and he knew that he needed to sleep a little although he dreaded closing his eyes.

"We need to rest don't we?" said the sensitive Garcia and Gideon stared at the larger than life woman who was reading him well.

"Yes, but I'm afraid to close my eyes, I don't want to dream…" he admitted.

"But you need…we need clearer minds and we're both exhausted. Just rest for a little while on that couch and I'll curl up in that arm chair," she suggested, eyeing a large overstuffed brown leather chair in the corner with some long cardboard tubes for storing charts piled on the seat along with a couple of heavy looking books.

Gideon nodded his consent at her wisdom and he reluctantly went and stretched out on the old leather couch. He felt very weary, he thought that his life was draining out of him just as the blood had drained from Sarah's body soaking the bed that they had previously shared with such warmth and pleasure. So many hopes had been destroyed tonight; all those dreams of a brighter few years for his retirement when he wanted to leave the violent senseless world of the murderous criminal behind. It was what he and Sarah had begun to talk about, something they could share together away from the world of death for both of them. He prayed that he was exhausted enough to have a dreamless sleep… 'Please…please,' he silently appealed to the God he believed in.

When Hotch and Morgan arrived in McLean they knew there was another body because the message had been relayed to them. The Police were waiting ready to give their report and said that on arrival there appeared to be no forced entry but they had shone torches through the windows and seen a body on the floor of the living room. They had forced the front door but the woman, in her early 20's was obviously dead and had been terribly cut up and looked as if organs had been removed. Hotch looked in sympathy at the middle-aged cop who was trying to keep his professional composure and he nodded with understanding.

"Never seen anything like this in over 15 years on the force. I came out and …and I threw up in the road before I could report it in to get it relayed to you," he admitted.

"It's OK, we're dealing with a very sadistic psychopath. But the child is gone and not hiding?"

"Yeah, we searched the house, my partner woke the neighbours who said the Belles were at a friend's party celebrating a big business deal…Apparently they're well liked and don't leave the child very much. The baby sitter is a nursery nurse, Carrie Hannett, and had a good reputation for being a good sitter…she was saving to do extra courses at college. My partner is trying to get an address."

"You're doing all the right things, but we need to talk to the parents…The suspect doesn't usually harm children."

The cop nodded and continued, "The neighbours were not sure where the Belles had been going but they tend to be back around midnight if they go out so this is late for them."

Morgan came out of the house and immediately went to his boss.

"Tracey's gone, looks like some of her clothes have been taken too…there were drawers open and clothing strewn about. Definitely a Frank murder…"

They heard a car draw up and a wide-eyed woman opened the door, anguish radiated from her face. Hotch recognised her from the Ozona, Texas case when they had to arrest a child, Jeffrey Charles, for murder.

"Tracey…What's happened? …Tracey!" her voice began to taken on a hysterical tone. Hotch moved forward to stop her entering the house and spoiling the crime scene.

"Mrs. Belle, Tracey isn't there, she will be all right but she isn't in the house…You can't go in there!" Hotch said firmly but he could guess at the horror that must be going through the poor woman's mind.

Mr. Belle had come to join his wife demanding what was going on and wanting access to his home. Morgan barred his way, trying to get the father to a calm enough state to explain what had happened and why they believed that Tracey for the time being would be alive. The Belles stood in disbelief when they were informed that their home was a murder scene and Carrie Hannett was dead. The couple was speechless with the horror of it all, Carrie was such a fun-loving and gentle girl and they knew her parents from Church. Mr. Belle hugged his wife close, the fact that he could feel his wife's shaking body in his arms made him conscious that this was all too real. The Belles had moved from Texas to help Tracey recover from the events of Ozona and had found McLean a quiet and warm community until now.

The McLean Police had asked permission to issue an 'Amber Alert' and Morgan called J.J. to help with a photograph, as they didn't want the Belles' entering their home at that moment because the crime scene had to be processed.

Two hours later Morgan and Hotch got back to the BAU and joined their colleagues. Hotch felt as if he could drop with tiredness and he saw the same exhaustion mirrored in his team.

"We're all too tired to think clearly, we had better get some sleep. I'll take the couch in my office and Anderson can wake me if there are any developments." Hotch said quietly and turned to go and speak to Anderson.

"We'll go and try and get some sleep in the women's rest room at the end of the corridor," Prentiss said and Jareau suddenly didn't even have the energy to confirm her decision and just meekly followed her. The rest room contained a couple of single beds for agents to just crash out on for a few hours during just such intensive investigations like this one.

Morgan and Reid wandered down the corridor in the opposite direction to find the corresponding rest room for male agents. There was only one free bed so Spencer softly told Morgan to take it and he'd go back and sleep on the couch in Gideon's office. Morgan nodded his reply, but was grateful to just lie down and fell asleep instantly due to the physical and emotional exhaustion of the night's events.

Reid felt a hand firmly shaking his shoulder and he opened his eyes to find Anderson looking intently at him and the smell of decent coffee registered in his brain.

"It's 8:30, I've woken Hotch and took the liberty of sending Finlay, who had been manning the phone with me, to get some decent coffee. There are fresh bagels, doughnuts and fruit in the conference room."

Reid stretched his long thin form, yawned and blinked several times, he'd slept for over 5 hours but they had all needed the break.

"Where's Hotch?" he said, reaching for the 'Starbucks" coffee, its strong aroma and taste began to work its magic on his body.

" He's gone to wake Morgan and the women…Their coffees are in the conference room so no drinking them!"

"As if I would!" replied Reid indignantly.

Anderson's handsome face broke into a smile, "Man, we all know you're addicted to the stuff…I was just saying in case you assume that they're not wanted…"

"Right…You don't know my Jo do you?" Reid asked suspiciously.

"Oh that's the shapely lady with the dark eyes?" Anderson teased.

"Mmm…God this tastes good," said Reid appreciating the quality of the coffee compared with the instant in the jars kept in the kitchen.

Anderson smiled, "It's all been quiet. Hotch was going to ring Garcia after waking the others but I think they must have had a quiet night aswell otherwise Garcia would have rung…she's a mother–hen!"

"Dare you to say that to her face," Reid said as he began to make his way towards the door.

"Jeez Reid…She'd make my life uncomfortable…" and then stopped as they saw Morgan come through the department's doors. Reid smiled, it was their private little teasing but Morgan might take it to a different level whereas Anderson and Reid shared a gentler comradeship within the department that few ordinarily noticed.

"I see you've got your coffee," Morgan said as he leapt the steps and the two men walked together into the conference room. Anderson and Finlay had cleared the round table earlier and there were now bags of bagels and still warm doughnuts along with fresh peaches and nectarines that Finlay had put on large plate. The photographs and files had been neatly placed on top of two filing cabinets at the back of the room.

"Wow doughnuts and bagels!" said Prentiss as she came through the door.

The men stared at her.

"What?" she demanded seeing their look.

"Oh, guess I'm used to Jo being very aware of keeping her figure…she always tells me that she has to work hard at keeping her weight down."

"Oh…I've never had that problem…always been able to eat what I like and a lot of it," Prentiss said as she opened one of the bags containing doughnuts and the escaping aroma made Reid's stomach rumble.

"Bet you've never had to think about gaining too much weight!" Morgan said to Reid and laughing as Prentiss took a couple of doughnuts and placed them on a plate and unconsciously licked her fingers to savour any lingering taste.

"Hey we'd better claim a doughnut before Emily eats the lot!" said Reid and grabbed a plate and filled it with a doughnut, bagel and a peach.

"Mmm that smells good," said Hotch as he walked in and Jareau smiled, she had been far too busy filling her own plate to get involved in chatter that took her away from eating.

Hotch let the team enjoy the simple breakfast because they would need to start again soon…but he didn't begrudge them a few minutes of gentle banter before serious matters took over their lives again.

"How's Gideon?" Reid suddenly asked. Hotch had known that he'd be the one to raise the concern.

"Garcia persuaded him to rest and he slept reasonably well. They had just got breakfast so I told them I'd leave them in peace while they ate," Hotch reported but he noticed the searching look that Reid gave him and wondered if the genius thought he should really be with his old mentor.

"Reid I want you to concentrate on trying to find Jane…" Hotch said deciding to get his brilliant brain working.

"Yeah like where the hell would she go if Gideon thought he saw her on the way home last night?" began Morgan.

"She probably found shelter with her fellow misfits out on the streets in Washington," Reid said quietly, "She would not seem threatening to them but she also has an objective…to find Gideon."

"OK but she doesn't know where Gideon lives…Frank found that out probably from a public data base..." stated Morgan letting his thoughts flow.

"But Jane knows that Gideon works for the BAU and that we are based at Quantico. Jane was traumatised by her initial experience with Frank and worked her memories into an alien abduction story to explain the partially remembered experience. Jane is capable of rationale thought its just that she hides behind the crazy image…that way she only interacts with people on her terms these days," said Reid as he began to think openly about Jane. Personally, Reid was still haunted by finding the trailer and the shock of what they had found inside it last year. He could understand why Jane had constructed her own version of reality after surviving Frank's attentions.

"Oh I don't totally agree with that," challenged Prentiss, "I mean talking to her and when we first saw her, she seemed quite strange in her behaviour. Don't you remember when we first met her at Golconda's police station, the deputy had problems controlling her…I mean, don't you think she's odd perhaps even schizophrenic?"

J.J. suddenly felt uncomfortable with the way Prentiss had taken this but then thought that she probably didn't know about Reid's mother. She cast a glance at Reid who seemed unperturbed although Morgan looked a little unsure and was uncharacteristically silent.

"No, I think she can appear to have disordered thoughts primarily because she only accepts the world on her terms and plays to that role but she is not schizophrenic. When we first met her she was afraid to go home but at that time we had not made the connection with Frank. Jane was afraid, she knew Frank came back annually but no one believed her original story. The Sheriff did not consider Jane a threat and or she would not have taken Jane home with her. I suspect as a young woman she dabbled in drugs and that she wasn't intellectually the strongest in her year group. But Jane had held down a job until she experienced her 'alien abduction'. She had been driving on her own at night on a lonely road when her car broke down and was trying to fix it herself. Jane was overpowered by Frank and taken to his trailer but he didn't kill her for some reason…Frank says it was because she showed no fear. Now that's interesting and he kept returning to her, every year. I wonder if she had already taken some drugs before she set out on her journey that night and then the dose of Ketamine that Frank injected into her really did some damage as well as the trauma…or perhaps she took drugs to help her forget?" Reid said quietly letting his thoughts roam freely about the woman.

"I'm not into the belief that schizophrenia can be drug induced," Prentiss said still thinking about the schizophrenia angle.

"Really, my mother was at Berkeley and experimented with every recreational drug on the campus. There is no history of schizophrenia in the family until she had her first 'event' in her mid 20's, her illness broke her marriage and I had to live with a woman who was at times totally irrational. She is now confined to an institution because she cannot live on her own and function out in the real world." Spencer Reid said quietly and Prentiss stared in disbelief as he calmly stated the facts about his family background.

"Oh God…I didn't know…I didn't mean to trivialise your Mother's condition…"

"I know," Reid said gently, "I'm just stating that I have a personal example close to home. I find it rather ironic that the Bureau keeps sending me off for extra drug tests after the dilaudid despite going through de-tox and a family history that would keep me away from drugs quite naturally after seeing what they have done to my mother.

However, this has taken us away from Jane…like I said, I think she was both traumatised and may have had a reaction to a combination of drugs or took them after to help her cope. But she did afterall live reasonably well on that old farm, with her hens and pigs. She was organised enough to eat and keep house even after her parents had died. It may not have been the most modern or beautiful but her home was not chaotic. She had kept it clean and that it would not have been the case if she was schizophrenic, they become very disorganised and don't even bother to eat properly…But Jane showed none of these behaviours and interacted with the community when necessary. She has a bank account, which hasn't been touched since leaving Nevada with Frank, but she made some money from her hens and pigs. There is also no history of treatment for a mental disorder, she is considered odd by her community but basically harmless. Jane has made a conscious decision to organise her world in the way she does because it's less threatening to her and 'an alien abduction' was her rationale for what happened to her."

"So what do you think Jane is doing now?" asked Hotchner fascinated by Reid's insight into the strange woman who had survived Frank's initial attack.

"I think she is trying to find her way here. We have given Jane's photo to the media but I doubt that any one would take much notice if she bought a train ticket to Quantico…Remember she did complete high school and has travelled on trains and buses before, Jane is not incompetent when it comes to living. Perhaps Jane stole a car, lets remember she can drive and that's how she initially met Frank when her car broke down, or she could have hitched a lift with a trucker. Now let's face it…a crazy woman who wants a lift to Quantico, ranting on about needing to get to the BAU and the FBI. Well, I can imagine some public-spirited driver would find it amusing to dump her at the perimeter to be found so I think we inform the base to keep their eyes open for her. Jane's reasoning would be that she will find Gideon here because this is where he works. Remember, she got herself away from Frank and to Washington and Frank is intelligent so don't under-estimate Jane," replied Reid conversationally as he sipped at his coffee.

Hotch nodded thoughtfully and then issued his orders decisively.

"J.J. go inform the base, get her photo distributed amongst security and have them keep an eye on all perimeter gates," Hotch said and felt that Reid was probably on to something with his analysis of the strange woman.

"But where has Frank taken Tracey Belle?" asked Morgan, "This isn't his usual area of travelling if we go on his east to west routines he had for 30 years."

"With the Nevada children they were far enough away to give him time to make his escape, so he will do the same with Tracey. He will have a very ordinary vehicle so as not to draw attention, he will dress and behave in a totally ordinary, non-threatening way. Frank is Mr. John Doe, he can go anywhere and be invisible because he naturally blends in and he does nothing to antagonise the people he has to interact with," said Reid, "This is why we have to find Jane and persuade her to talk about him. Like Hotch said, it's Jane who holds the code to decipher Frank," answered Reid hoping that Tracey was coping with the latest trauma in her young life.

Jane ran her fingers through her straggly hair. It was cold, autumn was setting in and the early morning was bright with the promise of a nice day but dawn and the evenings were a reminder to people that the year was in its final quarter. It didn't disturb her too much, she was a child brought up in a desert region with the heat of the day and the sudden drop in temperature for the night; it was a region of extremes, but she missed Nevada and its colours. Last night, Tina had asked her where she was from and wanted to know what Las Vegas was like. But Jane had not liked the city although Frank had taken her there and shown her the Strip so she had described the colours and buildings she had seen to Tina. Jane had been far happier out on the road away from the crowds and watching the scenery move past as Frank drove the mobile home he had bought. She never asked him where his money came from; she didn't want to know.

Tina had her own corner in a shabby basement of a tenement in a very run down area away from the grand Washington buildings of the capital. She had wandered on those streets looking for Gideon and had found a tourist map dropped near the big Union Street Station. It had been more than useful to her because it had also included train and route maps for areas surrounding Washington. She didn't think Frank would know where to look for her here. Frank had under estimated her, he always did just like everyone else, they all thought she was crazy. Jane smiled to herself, she was only as crazy as she wanted to be and she had got away from him but Gideon had been right, Frank had changed and he needed to know and that was why she had to find Gideon.

She had shared the rolls and discarded take-away with Tina last night. The young Latino couple had been arguing…a lover's tiff. They were very young and Jane remembered a time when her face had not been lined and she had possessed a slender waistline. The young woman had walked away from the man leaving her take-away box of hardly eaten chicken on the park bench. The man had put his down as aswell and ran after her. Jane had slipped out of her hiding place and grabbed the boxes and had then returned back into the shadows as she placed the boxes into her canvas shoulder bag. A few minutes later she had met Tina, an Afro- American of a similar age, and they recognised kindred spirits. Jane offered to share her plunder and Tina offered a dry and warm place to sleep that night.

Tina lived illegally in a basement, she kept it tidy in her corner and the outer door locked once inside to stop the druggies. Jim, the Super, knew she was there, she had once lived in an apartment in the building but then she lost everything to a drunken and gambling man who she had loved a long time ago. Jim allowed her to sleep in the basement at night, as long as she made no mess and she didn't let the druggies in. Tina had her own key to the outside basement door that she kept on a long piece of string around her neck, and tucked inside her clothes next to her skin, so no-one would suspect she that had a precious hideaway. During the daytime Jim was in the building to keep out the drug dealers and their clients but he had a woman a block away and preferred to keep her company at night. It was much better than the shelters for the homeless, Tina felt safer here and Jim let her use the tiny washroom with it's big chipped sink and the old fashioned toilet. The basement housed the tenement's big old boiler and that gave some warmth during cold nights. It was dark, she couldn't have a light on as it might make the residents suspicious but it was warm and Jim had left her a couple of big torches. Tina felt she was fortunate, there was kindness and she didn't need much and it gave a kind of meaning to her existence and sometimes she was able to help a fellow street woman like Jane. Tina liked Jane and she decided to try and help her as much as she could.

"So…you goin' now," Tina asked as she offered her water from an old wine bottle.

"Got to find a man called Gideon…He's at Quantico…works for the BAU that's part of the FBI…He understood my Frank," Jane explained.

"You won't be able to get on the trains, the ticket barriers will stop yer," Tina replied, "But I know some guys who might help…They sometimes drive that way…They'll expect a good story," Tina said with a knowing smile and Jane nodded her understanding.

Jane was pretty good at playing the awkward crazy woman, it had served her well when no one had believed her story back home. Jane knew that Quantico was a big place, full of Marines and the Headquarters for the FBI, and there were those who would like to embarrass the authorities there.

They began to walk along the awakening streets and Jane stopped and bought more cigarettes and matches from a street vendor selling his newspapers. She had taken money from Frank's wallet before she left and had used some on a train ticket but had then saved the remainder by hitching the rest of the way to Washington. She still had several hundred dollars hidden in a special pocket she had sewn into her petticoat. It had been something her Granny had done when she wanted to carry money and Jane only put a few dollars in her bag for essential cigarettes during the daytime. They had reached an area with lots of warehouses and busy loading bays where big delivery trucks were being loaded up with a variety of goods.

They turned into the busy yard of one such warehouse but Jane could only see very large boxes being loaded onto the four identical green and pale blue vehicles and wondered what was inside. Jane read the name 'LATIMERS' written boldly in gold lettering on the sides of the trucks.

"Bates!" Tina suddenly called to a middle-aged, tall and thin Afro-American man with no hair and the haggard features of someone who had lived a hard life alongside drink and drugs.

"Ain't got any spare breakfast," he said eyeing her suspiciously and then looked past her at Jane.

"My friend needs a lift to the Quantico base, you going that way?" Tina asked.

"I might, she trouble?"

"No, she's quiet but she's looking for a man who works at the FBI there,"

"Really! Tina what you got yourself into?" Bates asked laughing and thought the temptation of causing some havoc at the big Quantico base was just too good to be true. The Marines there always looked down on the truckers. Bates had once served in the Army but the discipline didn't suit his free spirit and they parted company but the experience had taught him to drive heavy vehicles so he had found work. They all saw the big signs to the FBI headquarters and wondered about all the cars that turned into the base complex.

A few minutes later Jane climbed up into the cab of the truck that was heading towards Richmond.

"What you delivering?" Jane asked.

"None of your business, then you can't tell if you're asked," Bates replied as he turned out into the street. Jane saw Tina standing on the corner and waved, she had been kind and had enjoyed sharing their stories.

"Does it take long to get to Quantico?" Jane asked hoping that this time she was on safe ground.

"We got to get out of the Beltway traffic then things will speed up but even on a Saturday getting out of Washington can take time…you know you can crawl along for an hour before the traffic lightens some weekdays. It might take us a couple of hours if the traffics moving well," Bates said as his sinewy arms turned the big steering wheel into a right turn at a junction.

Jane wanted to smoke but she also didn't want to get kicked out if she did light up. On her way to Washington she had lifts, changing at the diners along the way. It had not been too difficult but some truckers told her bluntly that it was no smoking while others had not said anything until she got her cigarette out. Jane was still trying to weigh up Bates although she felt sure that Tina wouldn't have put her into any kind of danger. She decided to remain silent and watch their progress out of the capital.

When Bates turned on to the Beltway he suddenly spoke, "So why do you want to go to the Quantico base…you got a Marine waiting for you?"

Jane giggled at the thought, "No way, I've never been attracted to men in uniforms," she replied and saw Bates nod, "I got to see a man who works for the BAU…that's part of the FBI. Agent Gideon he knows my Frank and he needs to know that I've had to leave him because Frank changed just like he said he would."

Bates listened carefully and wondered about this woman whom Tina had been friendly with, "So this Frank, is he your husband?"

"No, he…we just travelled round together and I kept him out of trouble, just like he promised Gideon…He told Gideon that as long as I was with him he'd do no more killings."

Bates kept his eyes on the road but looked quickly to the dashboard shelf to make sure that the dark bungle at the back was still there. You couldn't be too careful when you travelled on your own.

"So Frank's been in trouble with the Feds, what did he do?" Bates asked out of curiosity.

"He murdered a lot of people but he always came back to see me and left me presents from his travels," Jane stated simply.

"Well that were kind of him Jane, what sort of presents?"

"The agents said that they were rib bones…some were made into wind chimes they made beautiful music in the wind and one was made into a whistle."

Bates began to feel a little uncomfortable with his passenger. Truckers liked to have the occasional traveller for company but this woman's conversation was not exactly normal. Fortunately, it wasn't too far to Quantico and he'd toss her at the first gate and let the base deal with her.

"Can I smoke?" she asked.

"Sure but we'll have to open the window a bit…I don't want to start coughing…got to keep my eyes on the road."

Jane nodded and reached into her canvass bag and brought out her pack, the cigarettes took the edge off her hunger.

Bates reached for the radio dial, he thought a bit of music might be better than hearing this Jane ramble.

Garcia appreciated the thoughtfulness of Samuel bringing them breakfast and he had stayed to talk to Gideon while she went to the staff women's washroom to freshen up. She really hoped that they managed to catch Frank soon because she felt left out of the loop here at the Smithsonian and knew that Hotch wasn't telling Gideon everything. Garcia wanted to call J.J. and ask her what was really happening but she suspected that Hotch had told the rest of the team to keep quiet about developments. She combed her thick blond hair and adjusted her black rimmed spectacles. Garcia had a flawless fair skin and good teeth but she knew that her doctor would give her a lecture again about her weight if she went anywhere near him. Penelope was a comfort eater and had been before her parent's marriage broke up. She liked her stepfather and he treated his stepdaughter and her mother well and she was pleased to have half-brothers. They were fun and she liked being the big sister and the only girl, but she just couldn't rid herself of the early memories nor the habit of over-eating. As she applied her make up, she thought she would never be a size zero, and in truth didn't want to be, but she did eat all the wrong foods especially chocolate when stressed. She needed some now but she wasn't going to go down to the public vending machines near the cafeteria because she was supposed to be helping Gideon not eating bars of chocolate! Penelope thought that perhaps she would try to loose a little weight for Christmas but not make a fuss about it and just see if anyone noticed back in the BAU. Penelope Garcia applied her brilliant red lipstick that matched her nail polish and smiled, she had always loved bright happy colours. She collected her purse and made her way back to the room.

Meanwhile back at the BAU, the remaining team members were all subdued, after an initial session of trying to think of places where Frank could have taken Tracey they had to admit that they just didn't have enough data to narrow down to an area. Despite the distributed photographs of Frank and Jane and the Amber Alert for Tracey, nothing had been reported back to the police or the FBI. Hotch hoped that Reid was on the right track over Jane because it was the most plausible line of thinking any of them had come up with. Hotch now sat in his office thinking, trying to gather some strength for the tabled meeting with Frank tomorrow morning.

He had rung home a few minutes before and talked with Jack and Hayley. Hotch was pleased that Hayley planned to go with Nancy and her children to the Washington Zoo because it was such a lovely day and Jack enjoyed it there. But also Hotch was pleased with Hayley's attitude towards Jack, she was being more responsive towards him again this week. He put it all down to the sessions with Bethany Eades, they were expensive but Hayley was responding to the counselling.

Morgan had taken a few minutes to find a quiet corner to call Angela and explain that they had a very difficult case but he'd come to see her as soon as he could. He liked to hear her voice, it reminded him that there was a calmer world away from this place and Angela was central to that now. They planned to visit his family in Chicago in December. He had put in for Christmas and he was hopeful because he had been the one, with Reid, to volunteer to cover the office for the past 4 years so he thought he deserved some payback time. He knew that Reid had also applied for Christmas off but, as Reid had said, Jo's family was local so it didn't have the same impact on travelling as Morgan's plans.

Emily had rung George before breakfast, while J.J. had gone to grab a shower and a change of clothes. They had been planning to go to the theatre this Saturday evening but George seemed to be able to cope with the demands of her work and she felt that their relationship was based on a firm friendship. Emily was more worried about J.J. because she didn't sound too happy about her relationship with Simon. The two women had spoken about the pressures of the job and the place of children in their lives. Emily got the impression that Simon was pressuring J.J. towards a stronger commitment and children. But as J.J. said, she had escaped her small town to have a good career and she wasn't ready to curb that yet, which is what a child would do. She and Simon had been talking about such things when J.J. had been paged to go to Gideon's home. Emily's gut instinct was that J.J. was probably going to end her relationship with Simon because she wasn't ready for the whole family thing yet. It seemed so sad to Emily because Simon had been so supportive of J.J. following the Hankel case.

Reid had gone and showered and changed into fresh clothes after breakfast and when they had come to a halt over the case. He estimated that things would begin to look up again when Jane turned up, probably around midday he thought as he combed his towel dried hair and smiled into the mirror. Jo had carefully trimmed it but said he really needed a professional cut. He just liked her touching his hair, she was so gentle and yet so intense in everything she did. They had been planning on spending the afternoon with Craig and Melinda, just like when they had first met, all those months ago now. It just felt so comfortable having Jo as part of his life and being accepted by her family. The world with Jo anchored him to a reality that he needed as a counter balance to his savage world of work. Reid reached for his cell as he walked backed to the department and called the north gate to talk to the Marine on duty there. Reid was certain that Jane would be dropped off near there because there was lay-by a little way before the entrance and it would be the ideal stopping place for a truck.

It was 10:40 when Hotch walked into the conference room and broke up the idle chatter over yet another mug of coffee.

"Jane's turned up at the north gate, they have detained her saying that they'd contact the BAU, she just keeps insisting on seeing Gideon. Prentiss, Reid…you two go and pick her up. I'll set up interview 1 for her arrival, J.J. coffee and a bagel might not go amiss," Hotch said and he watched with satisfaction as his agents moved smoothly into action.

Hotch felt justified in his decision to have Reid stay with them despite Max's opinion. Reid had the potential to be a senior profiler and Hotch didn't want that potential wasted in the psych department.

A solid 6 foot 4 inch Caucasian male of pure muscle in his pristine Marine uniform standing towering over a somewhat subdued Jane was the sight that greeted Prentiss and Reid at the north gate office. The Marine Sergeant was the epitome of civility towards this odd woman who had walked up to the gate so boldly demanding to know where to go next to see Agent Gideon. Sergeant Kinder had received the picture and details a couple of hours before to look out for this woman and he had shaken her apparent confidence by calling her Jane.

"How you know my name?" Jane had asked surprised at this Marine's knowledge.

"The BAU are expecting you Ma'am but you are to wait with me until they come to get you. Turrell here is going to call them to say that you've arrived. Now why don't you sit down for a few minutes, you see it's quite a drive and I'm sure you'd not want to walk the distance, Ma'am," Kinder said quietly wondering why this woman was so important to Dr. Reid. The profiler had said that she would appear a little strange but not to let her out of his sight once she had arrived.

"Jane!" Prentiss said to her, "Do you remember me, Jane?"

Jane nodded and looked back at the Marine, "See I told you I had business here. Where's Agent Gideon, I said I needed to see him?"

"We'll take you to him," Prentiss assured the woman and the Marines watched her meekly follow Agents Prentiss and Reid to the SUV.

Turrell turned to his sergeant, "Strange lady that, but then I've heard that BAU deals with some weird people in their work!"

"Well that Dr. Reid…that very young agent, clever man that one, anyway he told me what to expect and he was right, said we had to treat her gently and she wouldn't be a problem. She's a witness, I think, but she was no problem and I've known worse on the New York streets where I'm from," he said watching the vehicle drive off with the two women sitting in the back.

Hotch and Prentiss had the first hour with Jane. Reid watched outside the interview room as they tried to get her to talk and began to think about the strategy he would use if Hotch let him have a session with Jane.

"I'm Agent Hotchner, I'm Gideon's boss, do you remember me ?"

"It's Agent Gideon I need to talk to…he was right about my Frank you know."

"Gideon isn't here at the moment but we know that Frank is looking for you, he told Gideon he wanted you back," Hotch softly said watching Jane wolf down the two bagels Jareau had brought in along with the coffee.

"I had to leave him, Agent Gideon was right, he said my Frank would change," she said reaching for the paper cup of coffee, " He was so angry with Agent Gideon because he knows Frank better than anyone else and Frank knows that too."

"Frank wants Agent Gideon to stop him, doesn't he?" said Hotchner watching the woman carefully.

"Well if anyone can, Agent Gideon can," asserted Jane drinking more of the coffee.

"Not without you, Jane," Hotch countered.

"What do you mean?" asked Jane suspiciously and she felt she didn't want to talk to this smart man in the fancy suit and tie. Hotch observed Jane sit further back on the chair and seemed to defensively hunch herself into her body. He knew that he had lost any trust he had been trying to build.

Prentiss decided to pursue the questioning as Jane seemed to be ignoring Hotch for the moment.

"Jane when you were with Frank, did he ever hurt anyone else?"

Jane looked up and seemed undecided about an answer but then said, "Being on the run can be very romantic, you know," and gave Prentiss all her attention in the hope that this woman would understand the feelings she had for Frank.

"Did Frank try to kill anyone else?" Prentiss pressed.

"Is it wrong?" Jane asked and Hotch was already feeling that keeping Jane focussed was going to make this session seem endless.

"Is what wrong?" asked Prentiss gently trying to connect with Jane.

"Loving Frank," she simply replied.

"You don't chose who you fall in love with," Prentiss said and Reid felt saddened listening to this woman but he didn't totally agree with Prentiss's reply. He felt there was an element of selection in the choice but then Hotch had taken over so he concentrated once more on the room.

"Maybe you thought you could change him…and you did too for a time…" Hotch softly said holding eye contact with Jane.

"Yes…"she agreed.

"But the desire to kill overwhelmed him," continued Hotch keeping his voice gentle but Jane shook her head in denial, "And you saw that didn't you, Jane, you saw that in him…" continued the man and Jane felt compelled to answer him truthfully.

Jane nodded and said, "Yes." But Reid on the outside was concerned that she was going to retreat into her own world if they were not careful.

"Prentiss asked again, "Who did he try to kill?"

"Me…but he stopped himself…We had an argument and I screamed at him and I said Gideon was right and he became so angry…and I had to run here…But as long as he's trying to find me he won't kill again," she ended confidently.

"He has already," stated Hotch and Jane felt her world shrink and wondered what she was going to do now.

"Oh" was all Jane could manage for the moment, she needed time to think.

"I'm sorry," said Prentiss as she sensed Jane's sadness at the news.

"You have to tell us what you know about Frank," Hotch said firmly but the moment he had spoken the words he knew he had made a mistake. Jane's eyes dulled and it was as if she had switched off from her surroundings in the room. For the next few minutes both Hotch and Prentiss tried to get her to talk but Jane stubbornly refused to respond to them. Hotch decided to leave her alone and took Prentiss with him.

When he found Reid on the outside he asked him for his opinion of the situation.

"Jane is not a violent woman and she is truly distressed that her actions have lead Frank to kill again. I think she's taking stock of the situation and doesn't know what to do next. You see by talking to us she is being disloyal to the man she loves despite the fact that Frank is a murderer. I suspect that until the argument they had been happy together."

Prentiss screwed up her face at the thought of Frank and Jane having a happy relationship, "But he's a psychopath, he can't love," she firmly stated.

"But Jane creates her own world, if she wants to see Frank as a gentle and loving person then she will. We tell her that he is a murderer but he didn't kill her so in Jane's mind she is special and has a power over him. We have just upset that illusion by telling her that Frank has killed since she left…Jane shows remorse and may be blaming herself for those deaths although she does not know the details." Spencer said calmly, his eyes wandering back to the woman who was chewing thoughtfully on her thumbnail and staring at the interview room's table.

Do you want to try to connect with her?" Hotch asked sensing the young man's interest in the woman.

Reid turned to face Hotch and the Unit Chief looked into the steady eyes of one born old. For a moment Hotch wondered how many times he had seen that look and concluded that he rarely saw it and only if Gideon wasn't there. It struck Hotch that Reid had at times deliberately under-played his growing abilities around Gideon in the past, just like Max had said, but now there was a quiet confidence in his present demeanour that Hotch knew he could trust.

"I'll have a try, I'm going to go in a less direct manner and see if she will trust me because I don't look like an agent," and he smiled, laughter twinkled in his eyes and Hotch felt the assurance of a man who could laugh at himself. "Do you want to sit in again Prentiss or would you prefer to 'look in'?"

"Can I have a few minutes of fresh air. I'll come in if Hotch feels you need a female but you've got agent Paressi there babysitting, she can stay for the moment," Prentiss said and breathed the nicotine free air of the corridor.

Reid nodded and opened the door, he smiled at Paressi and softly told her to stay, before he went and sat down opposite Jane.

"Where's that Prentiss?" Jane asked a little agitated at the change.

"Oh, she didn't get much sleep last night so she's taking a rest," Reid said smoothly.

"Are you comfortable Jane?" he asked solicitously, "Is there anything I could get you?"

Jane shook her head eyeing the thin young man with the curling hair that he tucked behind his ears. He seemed quieter and much friendlier than the boss and seemed to have a sweet face; he smiled at her with gentle brown eyes.

"What's your name?" Jane asked not sure if he had told her earlier.

"Oh, I do apologise, Jane, didn't I say when we came to collect you from the gate…I am Agent Reid, Spencer Reid, I come from Nevada like you."

He watched Jane's eyes light up with interest, "Where?" she asked like an eager child.

"Las Vegas,"

Her eyes widened, "It's a big noisy place, lots of colourful lights at night and the buildings in the daylight are like a…a movie, they don't seem real!" she stated excitedly very willing to share her memory.

Reid's smile broadened, "Yes, they are like no where else but I didn't live near the Strip, I lived well away from the casinos and I went to the university there."

Jane nodded with interest and reached for another cigarette.

Outside the room, Hotch and Prentiss stood observing and were fascinated at the ease with which Reid had broken down the barrier Jane had erected against them.

"He's so natural, he's not even stuttering," remarked Prentiss her eyes never leaving the scene in the interview room.

"Oh he only stutters when his thoughts are racing ahead of his speech. Reid is a very capable profiler," Hotch said and knew that here was Gideon's natural successor but would he want to stay with the internal politics of the organisation. They listened as Reid had got Jane recalling her experiences of his home city with Frank. All the while they saw how Jane's posture was relaxing and how she seemed to come alive with this rather ordinary conversation. Hotch began to see what Reid had seen, a woman who had survived a traumatic event, which her mind had rationalised for her, but then the inhabitants of Golconda hadn't believed the account.

Hotch began to feel some sympathy for the woman who had obviously retreated further into her own world in reaction to her fellow citizens. In effect she had played the role that her fellows had given her, that of the harmless crazy woman. But the more Hotch listened to her talk about her travels with Frank, the more Hotch understood what Reid had seen and that he had questioned her in the wrong way.

Their conversation began to sound so normal, like two people talking about their travel experiences and both enjoying shared laughter and the 'me too' moments.

"You've travelled a lot around the country," Jane said, "My Frank travelled to lots of places he liked to take me to places that he thought I'd like."

"Which city did you like best?" Reid asked her, giving Jane his total attention.

"Oh I'm not really a city girl but I liked it when Frank took me to his home city," she confessed.

The watching agents' hearts stopped and Hotch hoped Reid could manage the next step smoothly.

"Wow, Jane, that must have been exciting. I took my girl friend to my home city and I just wanted to show her all the bits I enjoyed." Reid replied enthusiastically.

"Yes, it's what Frank did with me, he showed me New York…All the places where he was taken as a child and where he liked to visit when he was there…it was a wonderful time!" she enthused.

Hotch thought how proud Gideon would be if the mentor could see his protégé handling this interview and the way that he had gained Jane's confidence.

"You know, my colleagues all laughed at me because the first time I was in New York we went for a Chinese meal and I just couldn't eat with chop sticks!"

Jane laughed and Reid thought that she had probably been quite an attractive woman when younger, before the savage sun had taken its toll of her skin along with the ageing process.

"It's not easy, is it? But I learnt to do that when a teenager, we sometimes went to Carson City to see my Dad's cousin and would have a take-away…I was taught the trick of tying them sticks together with a band."

"Yeah, one of my colleagues took pity on me and did that so I wouldn't starve. You know I like my food despite being so thin," he said thinking about how rationale Jane was once you got her talking and it was a shame that Golconda had not made the effort.

Jane giggled, "Frank bought me Chinese take-aways while in New York and he took me to the beach where he had been taken as a child. He showed me Central Park, his Mom often took him there to play and it was there that he learnt to ride his bike…it's so big and those sky scrapers!"

"I showed my girlfriend where I was brought up, my Mom doesn't live there any more but I could show her the house. Did Frank show you his home?"

"Oh Frank he was brought up in Manhattan, his mother was a lawyer and she spent her money on buying him nice things," Jane said thinking about the rainy day when they had walked the Manhattan area.

"Gently Reid, gently…" whispered Hotch to himself and Prentiss smiled as she felt the tension too but this was the first time that they had a sense of Frank's history.

"Gosh there must have been so much to do as a child in that city…I mean all the shops and the theatres, cinemas, the museums…"

"Frank loved the big library, he used to read lots of books there, and he liked the art galleries. He took me to the Museum of Modern Art," Jane said proudly.

"I took my girlfriend to meet my Mom and I played my lute for her and my lady sang her favourite songs," Reid said conversationally, "Did you meet Frank's Mom?"

"No, he said that she doesn't like visitors these days. They used to do a lot of entertaining and Frank said they would dress up and he'd pretend to be the waiter and take round the tray of cocktails to the guests," Jane explained demonstrating how Frank had shown her how he'd carried the tray aloft with one hand. She suddenly began to play with the paper cup.

"Would you like some more coffee?" Reid asked and hoped she would because he needed a break from the over powering smell of nicotine and stale smelling woman. He thought that it was her clothes that were the problem and wondered when they were last washed.

"That would be nice, chatting can make you thirsty," she said with a smile.

"Yes, it does, I'll go and get us some coffee, would you like me to see if there is a little cake or something like that to go with it?" Reid asked and was pleased when she gave him a child-like grin that revealed her yellowing teeth and with it a further blast of her nicotine breath.

He walked out of the room and once the door was closed breathed deeply, his fellow agents had only sympathy for him. Agent Galloway came to relieve Paressi a few moments later and she too came out savouring the fresher air.

"She's a bit over-powering isn't she?" said Hotch sympathetically.

"Yeah, but I need this break to re-charge my batteries and I really do need some more coffee myself.

"Reid you're doing a superb job, I think she trusts you," Hotch praised.

Reid nodded and they walked together towards the kitchen and Spencer hoped that there would be some little chocolate biscuits hidden away in the cupboard.

"Reid…do you really play the lute?" Paressi asked.

He smiled at her as they had reached the kitchen where Morgan had come to join them to see how things were going.

"Oh yes, that was all true. I did take Jo to visit my Mom and I took my lute and Jo sang for her and it was the best visit I've ever had. The staff hope that we will do it again as other patients enjoyed the impromptu concert aswell," replied the young man and Paressi nodded. The older operatives of the BAU knew about Diana Reid since the Garner case but no one had made any insensitive comments and wouldn't dare to risk any that might get back to their boss.

Morgan kept quiet but listened and turned his attention to Hotch to be given a summary of the events. Morgan had been helping J.J. and had been in contact with Gideon to say that they had found Jane and she was being interviewed. However, he'd not told Gideon about the kidnap of Tracey Belle or the murders of Rebecca Bryant or Carrie Hannett. Garcia had told them the previous day that they didn't have access to a radio or television so they were reliant on them for information. It was a godsend as far as Hotch was concerned because if he knew that Frank had taken a child, Gideon would be beside himself with guilt and that would cloud his judgement.

Hotch noted Reid made two coffees in paper cups, the empathy with their material witness would help to continue the confidences the two were sharing. Paressi was opening cupboards and found some chocolate biscuits that she put on a paper plate and then placed on the small plastic tray for Reid to carry back to the room.

"We need Frank's name," Hotch said quietly and saw Reid nod thoughtfully.

"Yeah, but I don't want to ask her outright. The way we were chatting has got her guard down but I've got a lot more of going round the garden of her memories with Frank before I can trick her into that," he replied and Hotch felt a little guilty for the pressure he had implied.

Tracey Belle awoke to darkness and she couldn't move and there was tape across her mouth. Her hands and feet were tied together behind her and her limbs hurt in that position and she thought she was in a bag of some kind that was made of a rough material. She could smell petrol and hear the sound of a car engine so she decided that she had to be in a car boot. The man had injected her with something in her bedroom and then she had not been able to move. He had taken a carrier bag that her new dress had been packed in and put some of her clothes into it but then she had not been able to stay awake anymore. She wanted to go to the bathroom and she was hungry but most of all she wanted her Mommy. She was so scared, she could hear and feel her heart thumping in her chest and felt a tear form although she knew there was no one to help her. Tracey tried to think of her favourite movie and she thought of Snow White and the songs because they had recently performed a school play of Snow White and she had been 'Doc'. Tracey began to imagine the story in detail and to sing every song in her mind to pass the time and take her mind off the sheer terror, aches and growing discomfort.

Garcia had spent the morning listening to Gideon explaining how profilers work and how he had talked with Frank back in Nevada. The conversation with him in the diner was examined in fine detail. They both knew that Frank had not let slip any real personal details that Garcia could use as a lever to prise more information out of the vast data bases that lay at Garcia's finger tips. Frank was intelligent, obsessed with facts and totally calculating, to Gideon he was a killing machine without any ability to relate to his fellow humans because he could not feel remorse, compassion or love. Garcia thought sadly to herself that Gideon was the total opposite of Frank and that the old profiler felt too much remorse, compassion and love. Morgan had told them that they had Jane and were talking with her and that seemed to give Gideon a new lease of life.

"Think of Frank as a living murder weapon: his genetics load the gun, his psychology aims it, while the environment pulls the trigger. That's why his victims are so important. We study them, they reflect back on him," Gideon let his thoughts flow to the listening Garcia. She nodded and tapped at her laptop bringing up the details of Frank's suspected victims.

"Plot out their ages," Gideon said trying to find a new angle to explore.

He watched Garcia's red tipped fingers flash across the keys.

"He killed 43 in their 50's, 51 in their 40's, 64 in their 30's and 12 in their 20's." Garcia read off the display.

"12?" repeated Gideon puzzled and he felt there was something significant here.

"Is that odd?" asked Garcia intrigued by his reaction.

"Precedent tells us that the number of victims should rise as the age falls…So it's a break from pattern, why?" Gideon said more to himself than the woman who was trying to help him.

Garcia said the first thing that came into her head, "He wasn't attracted to them…No that doesn't make sense because he doesn't feel attraction or love."

"No, no, no…" Gideon shook his head trying to clear his woolly thinking, "You're on to something."

"That's great, but I don't know what…" replied Garcia in exasperation. Garcia longed for another profiler to join them because she didn't feel she was focussing Gideon in the right way on the case.

But it was as if Gideon had not heard her as he continued, "Who was the only victim he didn't kill?"

"Jane, she was 22 when Frank first abducted her," replied the woman.

"And through the years he kept coming back, kept visiting her, bringing her gifts, making sure she was OK…Mother protects her children…in Frank's case it was vice versa."

"He didn't kill Jane because he saw her as his mother!" said Garcia unable to hide her surprise at this conclusion the great profiler had come to. However, they had not enough facts about Frank to search for the mother so they were left to further speculate about why Jane and Frank had split up.

In the early afternoon Gideon asked Garcia to ring Hotch again and ask how things were going with Jane.

Hotch came on the phone and asked Garcia to put it on speaker.

"Gideon," Hotchner's voice sounded his usual calm self, "Reid has been talking to Jane and he's got a rapport going with her."

"Good has she given any indication of Frank's background?"

"She told Reid that Frank comes from Manhattan and that his mother was a lawyer but that he didn't know his father. Reid has been quietly chipping away at the protective wall she has put around Frank."

"We need a name," said Gideon with impatience, "I want to come in."

"No," said Hotch firmly, "You come here and you have to make a formal statement and you will not be allowed near Jane anyway because of the issues of conflict of interest. Reid is doing a superb job it was I that blew it when we first got her here. I was too direct and too forceful and Jane went into protective mode."

"I'm feeling like I'm in protective custody here," Gideon grumbled and Garcia gave him a sympathetic look.

They heard Morgan's voice sounding triumphant, "Reid's got a name... Mary Breitkopf, Jane said this was his mother's name and she repeated that she lived in Manhattan."

Gideon looked at Garcia whose fingers were already working their magic to bring up data-bases for New York.

"We'll work on that here," said Gideon his voice suddenly sounding upbeat with the chase of a possible scent and he cut the connection.

Hotch turned to the Morgan and Prentiss, "Well that might give us some leads, Reid has been going steadily for three hours to get that nugget," said Hotch feeling proud that the youngest of the team had doggedly kept up the gentle delving.

"God, I don't know how he's put up with the smell," remarked Prentiss, "Thirty minutes and I'd had enough."

As if on cue, Reid walked into the conference room looking a little weary.

"Garcia's on to it!" Morgan assured him and Reid nodded.

"Well done," Hotch said quietly and Reid looked up and appreciated the words of praise.

"Do you mind if I go and grab a quick shower and change, I feel I just smell of nicotine after all that time with her chain smoking," he asked apologetically.

"Be quick, you never know what Garcia will come up with," replied an understanding Hotchner and watched as Reid disappeared before his boss could change his mind.

Back at the Smithsonian, Gideon's mind was alive with the possibilities of finding Frank's real background. He began to remember a conversation he had with the murderer when Frank told him that his name had Germanic origins…

"He said something about Manhattan…about there being 1.5 million people living in Manhattan…Something else too…He said he had read in a newspaper about a woman whose body was found in her apartment in Upper East Side. It was the only thing he said that really moved him. He was talking about his mother," Gideon continued to ramble on with his flowing thoughts, "If he likened Jane to his mother, she probably emigrated here in the 50's, then she must have been in her late teens when she arrived in Manhattan."

"I've got three Mary Breitkopf's living in Upper East Side during the 50's and 60's," Garcia said triumphantly feeling that now they were being useful.

"Jane said she was a lawyer," Gideon said hoping it would match one of the names.

"No lawyer's here. A 52 year old, a Mary Louise Breitkopf, died of cancer, 1973…tailor's assistant. Mary Breitkopf, a nurse, killed in a traffic accident. Mary Breitkopf…Wow!"

"What?" demanded the impatient profiler.

"This Mary Breitkopf was arrested 63 times…solicitation…She was a hooker!"

"Is she deceased?" asked a puzzled Gideon.

"No death certificate…alive and living in Manhattan," replied Garcia with a shrug.

Gideon was still trying to make the connection, "Search for a story involving a woman found dead in her apartment…dead for over a year…Upper East Side, Manhattan."

Garcia's fingers danced over the keys to summon up the data, "Zip…Nothing!" she confirmed.

"So it never happened. Frank's been hiding her existence from everyone…Why?" Gideon asked the room and Garcia felt unable to give an answer.

But suddenly her phone rang and Hotch asked for Gideon and Garcia dutifully passed it over to him.

"Yeah," Gideon said curtly, still feeling that something was missing from the information he remembered Frank saying and the details that Reid had gleaned.

To Gideon's surprise it was a child's voice, "Jason?" a tentative young voice asked.

"Who is this?" Gideon asked not recognising the girl's voice.

"It's Tracey Belle," the frightened girl said and her fear reached out and clutched around Gideon's heart.

"Go ahead, Tracey," Frank said clearly and Gideon knew that Frank had kidnapped a child again to trade just like in Nevada.

"Please Mr. Gideon, you saved me once, do you remember?" her shaking voice asked.

"Of course I remember you, how could I forget you, Tracey. Everything's going to be all right," he tried to re-assure the terrified child with a gentle voice.

"Please, I'm scared, I just want my Mommy…Please, please!" Tracey's quaking voice emanated from the phone.

"Ja – son!" taunted Frank in a sing-song voice.

"You son of a bitch! I swear to you I will find you and I will stop you…" Gideon vehemently responded.

But Frank smoothly interjected, "I chose the station because I know how much you love trains…I saw the toys in your apartment," and then he abruptly hung up.

"I…I can't trace that call…it wasn't long enough and even if it was…I…I can't triangulate it…" Garcia was saying but she looked at Gideon and saw anger in his stony face.

"Hotch! Why the hell didn't you tell me about the meeting Frank has obviously arranged?" Gideon angrily demanded and Garcia was shocked at the change in the normally softly spoken man.

"You could do nothing about it and we needed you concentrating your mind on trying to find out who Frank really is…That was the agreement remember?" replied a very calm Hotch, but the other team members knew that their boss didn't like being spoken to in that manner.

"When did this all happen?" demanded Gideon.

"We found a note last night…it just said 'Sunday, 7 a.m. Union Street Station' there was nothing you could do about it…"

"Well now he's got a child!"

"But Frank has never harmed a child," Hotch firmly countered and the team held their collective breath.

"No he just uses them as pawns in hostage situations…I need to think!" the call was abruptly ended and the conference room was deadly silent after the exchange, none of the team had ever heard Gideon speak to Hotchner like that before.

Garcia sat trying to keep calm but she was upset for the child they had just heard and now Jason Gideon was arguing with the Unit Chief, she didn't know what to say or do to make things better for either man. She watched the older man pace the room a little and then he suddenly went back to his case and unzipped it. He reached into an inner pocket and brought out a gun that he swiftly tucked into his trouser belt at his back and covered it with his sweater. Gideon then took out his lightweight beige jacket and slipped it on and began to zip it up.

Garcia's initial stupor was now replaced with panic that race through her trembling body, " What are you going to do? Talk to me please!" she pleaded and knew that it was going to be difficult to stop this man. She tried again to reach him, "Tell me what I can do!" she demanded and saw him look straight at her and slightly nod his head.

Gideon reached for the notepad and scribbled something on it in his small writing so she couldn't read it from where she was sitting.

"Call Hotch, read that to him. He'll know what to do," he coldly said to her and pushed the pad towards her as he began to stride towards the door.

"But you can't…" she began and was then stopped by the icy look in his eyes. Garcia knew that Gideon had decided to leave the Smithsonian and no one was going to stop him.

She felt sick and looked down at the message she was to read to Hotch.

'Mary Breitkopf, 2087 East 78 Street, Upper East Side, Manhattan. Send Reid to interview her.

I'll be at the station, be prepared to trade Jane for Tracey.'

Garcia took a deep calming breath and picked up the phone.

On hearing Garcia repeat the message, Hotch quizzed Garcia about all that Gideon had said that day and then told her to return to Quantico.

Morgan was the first to break the silence of the conference room, "Well, where the hell do you think he's gone with a gun?" asked the agitated Morgan.

Hotch struggled with his own racing thoughts, "God knows, but Garcia said she didn't think he knew where Frank was. But if Gideon says he'll be at the station then we have to trust him that he will be there and he thinks we'll be trading Jane for the whereabouts of Tracey Belle."

"Reid, J.J., get the jet organised to take you two to New York. See if you can get anything out of Mary Breitkopf that might indicate where he's keeping Tracey. Morgan head out for Gideon's cabin, just in case he's headed there."

Jareau headed for her office to call the airstrip and Reid went in the direction of the men's room. He slipped into Garcia's empty lair as soon as he saw Morgan leave and made a call to Max.

"Max I'm being sent to New York but Gideon's left Garcia and he's armed."

End of Chapter 31


	32. Chapter 32

**The In-Between Times: Chapter 32**

**By Helena Fallon**

Reference will be made to 'No Way Out 2: The Evilution of Frank'

Note that the time scale and some events have been slightly altered but the essence of the story is still there. This is my interpretation of the events in the context of this story. As usual the standard disclaimer applies, I intend no infringement of copyright of the Criminal Minds series but I do claim the intellectual property of my invented characters that appear in my stories.

CMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCM

"Max I'm being sent to New York but Gideon's left Garcia and he's armed," Reid tightly informed the one man he hoped would watch the back of his boss. Spencer was very worried, this was the one scenario that they could have done without, and he told Max all he knew about the latest developments.

"OK, I'm on to it. Try not to worry…" Max replied, as he kept calm for the genius who he knew was worried about both Gideon and Hotch.

Max strode purposefully into the BAU and knew that this was going pear-shaped for everyone. He mounted the stairs and Prentiss saw him as he approached the conference room and stiffened with shock. Hotch noting her reaction turned to see what had caught her attention. On seeing Max Hotch knew immediately that Reid must have informed him before he left and the Unit Chief couldn't stop the rising anger against his youngest agent.

"Don't say anything until we're in your office!" Max commanded and Hotch felt the shock of being ordered about by someone he didn't recognise as an Agent.

Hotchner followed Max to his office and closed the door; the two alpha males faced each other eye to eye.

"So when were you going to tell me? This is the very thing I was worried about…Gideon has the ability to bring you down with him!" said Max in a dangerously quiet voice that seemed to reverberate around Hotch's office.

"Well obviously I don't need to with Reid being in your pocket!" snapped back Hotchner but Max held his eyes steady and Hotch knew he'd met his match, this man was powerful and he had perhaps underestimated the influence Max Pentall had in the organisation.

"Reid has more sense than you because he did know who to contact to try and keep the BAU intact. You are all always ready to defend Gideon's actions when you know that he has always had a disregard for the strict rules that we have to work under to keep the respect of the people we serve and you as a lawyer know that more than most."

Hotch felt the slap of criticism and the rising anger was suddenly checked with the ice cold logic that this man had just poured over him. He had always tried to give Gideon a certain leeway over the years they had worked together and it usually solved the problems before them but this time Hotch knew he had mis-calculated.

"You are playing right into Strauss's hands…I told you she will try to use this against you and the situation all departments are in with the financial settlement that is coming …this just weakens the position of the BAU. Gideon spent years trying to build this department up but, if we're not careful, he will be the instrument of its down fall!" Max coldly flared.

Hotch felt stunned by the words, he knew in his heart that there was truth in them but he couldn't see a way through the evil fog that was hiding Frank and the missing Tracey Belle. He sighed and felt the draining impact of the emotional turmoil of this case…It was too personal, they shouldn't even be working it but they had the skills and Frank had been manipulating them from the start.

"I think we have to give Gideon some understanding and credit for his personal integrity," replied Hotch as evenly as he could, "He said that he will be at the station tomorrow and we're to be prepared to exchange Jane for the whereabouts of the child."

"Oh and you think that's all right do you? What about the rights of Jane, what if she doesn't want to go with Frank? She left him, why?" demanded Max, not giving an inch in this confrontation. Hotch knew there was no way he could psych Max into submission because he realised that Max was probably even psychologically stronger than himself and deep down that frightened Hotch.

"Jane says he tried to kill her," Hotch replied and felt guilty about the whole lack of control they had over their dealings with Frank.

"Exactly, what right have you to take another human being to hand over to a known psychopath…and don't say you've done it before because its no justification. We know about the pact with the devil to get the children back in Nevada. But that time Jane went willingly, this time she has run away from Frank, now she knows what he's really like," Max argued and Hotch could imagine what an internal enquiry would be like over this case.

"It's not an ideal situation Max, I wish there was some neat conclusion but I can't see one at the moment, other than getting the information of where Tracey is and then having a sniper take him out!"

"Oh Christ! I can just imagine the civil liberties lobby having a field day over such an incident and it leads the Bureau open to a public enquiry. There will be those in the Senate and Congress who will be only too pleased to fight for a place on a committee to investigate the assassination of a suspect and what if he uses Jane as a human shield and she gets killed too!" Max argued and Hotch knew that the picture he was painting was all too feasible. "But you are further assuming that Frank will truthfully tell you the whereabouts of the child."

"We got the children back last time," Hotch replied clinging to the hope that Frank would honour the arrangement again.

"You had better face it Hotch, Gideon is the loose cannon and has been for some time, his reputation is going to be no protection if this leads to yet another innocent getting murdered. I've been trying to get him to early retirement but don't expect me to keep making excuses for him…and you as the Unit Chief have no control of him, so you'll be in the firing line over whatever action he takes. Gideon might turn up ready to shoot Frank himself tomorrow and there's always the possibility that scenario has been this psychopath's plan all along. There are times when friendship has to be put aside and you have to look at a situation with a good dose of much needed clear thinking!"

Hotch stared at this man before him and silently acknowledged that he had a total grasp of the issues of the situation, but Gideon was still his friend at the end of the day.

"That's all very easy to say…what do you know of working in the field?" Hotch challenged bitterly, resenting the criticism of those who had never faced the cruel world that haunted his people.

"You wouldn't know where to begin with my experiences Hotch, I was a CIA operative and I was caught by the enemy…I know all about torture and I wasn't anywhere near home. Haven't you ever thought why I could help Reid where Gideon could only watch from the sidelines, he couldn't identify with what Reid had been through… I've been there …it was not the theory of books and research papers for me...I was physically and mentally tortured for months. I would not wish that on anyone but Gideon has certainly never been there. He has seen other horrors because of the nature of your work but to be personally the lonely and vulnerable captive for days…no he's never been there I've seen his service record. People like him because he comes out with platitudes that sound like words of wisdom but when he's alone he knows how empty those words can be."

Hotchner stared speechless, what could you say to a man whose experiences were beyond what most people had faced. Hotch knew that he was fumbling sometimes over Reid's experiences, some of which the team had witnessed over the link Hankel had deliberately fed them. He had often wondered how he would have felt to have someone play Russian Roulette with his life and he had so much more to loose when he thought of Hayley and Jack.

"Do you have any idea where Gideon might be?" Max suddenly asked and Hotch was dragged away from his thoughts.

"I've sent Morgan to his cabin…"

"You sent Morgan out of the office because he was like a pent up animal, bursting to be doing something!" Max interjected and Hotch felt like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Yeah," he conceded, he couldn't fight this man who he needed on his side.

"So you've no clue…Well I'm going to have to tell the Director the truth, we have to protect the Bureau. This Frank has already murdered three women since he got to Washington and kidnapped a child…We all know how emotive incidents are where children are involved."

"What do you think the Director will do?" Hotch asked hoping that there might be someone else who knew Gideon well enough to have some ideas as to where he might have taken himself off to."

Max shrugged, "I'd personally recommend him to contact the CIA, they might know where he has a hidden bolt hole. They probably wouldn't reveal it to us but they might check up on him to make sure that he's all right."

Hotchner nodded and felt totally out of his depth. He had felt uncomfortable about Gideon's work with the CIA and had only found out about it the previous year along with the rest of the team. Hotch was firmly a Bureau man and he could understand Max's dislike of the implication of serving two masters.

"Get some sleep, nothing is going to happen until 7 a.m. tomorrow," Max curtly said and turned to leave.

"Max," Hotch said softly and the Head of Mental Health Services turned back to him, "If you find out where he is …you'll tell me?" he asked hopefully because he doubted he was going to sleep well tonight.

Max stared into his eyes and Hotch felt like he was laid bare before this man. The psychologist was unreadable to Hotch; his own barriers strong, Max merely nodded and opened the door.

Hotch went and slumped into his black leather chair, he ran a hand though his short dark hair, 'It was one hell of a mess' he thought.

Meanwhile all was not going well for Reid and Jareau. They had boarded the waiting jet and sat patiently ready for take-off only nothing happened in the normal time span of things. The pilot came through to the cabin to speak to them.

"I'm sorry, but I've several warning lights and I can't take off until I've had the plane checked," Vicki Melrose said, she was puzzled by the display in the cockpit but she was not going to ignore the indicators.

"Sure, do we have to get off?" J.J. asked, as they had never been in this situation before since she'd arrived at the BAU.

"Sorry, yes, I've radioed the problem in and a mechanical engineer is on his way to us but he's the other end of the air field.

"Right, we'll go and make ourselves comfortable in the control building then," said Reid getting up and noting that there was a small service truck heading towards the plane, "Looks like the repair man has come quickly. Come on J.J. we'll call Hotch and tell him we're held up."

Hotch felt as if the gods were against the team tonight. He told Jareau and Reid to get some rest while they could and take off as soon as possible. The two agents stretched out in the personnel lounge and dozed, it was going to be a long night.

Hotch rang home and talked to Jack about his visit to the zoo and listened to his son's delight in seeing the peacock's opened fantail and the sea lions and his fascination with the tall giraffes. The children had slept in Nancy's car on the way home so Jack was now quite alert and Hotch let his son chatter on about his day until he finally got bored and handed the phone to his Mommy. Hayley said that she and Nancy were both very tired but it had been a wonderful day for them all and he was missed on the outing. She hoped that he would be home soon but Hotch did not tell her about the case; Hayley sounded so happy tonight and he didn't want to shatter that by informing her about Gideon's friend being murdered and the subsequent events. For Hotch it was going to be another night sleeping on the office couch but at least it was quite comfortable compared to some that he had slept on in the past. As he dozed, Hotch's mind recalled the visitation by Max and the truth of his words left him feeling very vulnerable at the Bureau.

Some miles away to the north of Washington, Gideon sat with an old Rabbi who he had known since he was a teenager. Over the years, this man had been the quiet listener to Gideon's troubled soul. Tonight was no exception; Gideon needed the wisdom that Isaac would give to his emotional pain alongside his spiritual doubts because this time they were woven closely together. Besides feeling let down by God, Gideon felt betrayed by Hotch because he had kept things from him. Hotch's actions had only intensified his sense of loss because of feeling that he was being shut out of the case. Gideon was feeling adrift because couldn't see a way before him after the coming confrontation with Frank. He began to wonder if there really was any point to all the things that he had done with his life. The single minded conviction he gave his work when on the job had cost him dearly this time and Gideon resented the price.

Isaac had listened and let Gideon vent his anger against those that he had trusted and his sense of powerlessness to save the Jewish widow he had cherished. The Rabbi had no magic solutions, he had seen many things that had tested his faith as a child survivor of the Holocaust. Isaac lived with the guilt and loneliness of living while his siblings had perished along with their parents. He had come through it all and finally decided that God had given him a talent to assist his fellow man with their doubts. At the end of the day, Isaac knew that we all had our own trials along our life journeys but wisdom came along the road and he believed that God was with us even when we felt devoid of the compassion that made us human. Isaac gently reminded Gideon that he was still a good man because even in Gideon's present vengeful cold heart, God was still beside him because there was the spark of that compassion to reach out and try to save Tracey and Jane.

Isaac had left the exhausted man asleep in his guestroom although he had promised to wake him by 6.a.m. so he could get back to Washington on time. The old Rabbi did not need so much sleep these days and had gone to his study but he had another brief visitor, soon after midnight, who had wished only to know if Gideon was safely with him. The visitor had left as quickly as he came and did not ask for details. Isaac understood this kindness of people who looked after their own.

Hotch received a call from Max around 1:30 a.m.

"Our other friends assure us that he's safe. Get some sleep while you can, Goodnight."

Hotch would liked to have questioned him further but the call was what he had asked for and that was all Max had given but at least his old friend was safe where ever he was. The news did however allow Hotch to sleep deeply until Anderson woke him at 5:30 a.m. with the smell of coffee and the news that the jet had finally been mended and would be arriving in New York in 20 minutes. The New York field office was sending a car to meet them and a SWAT team was standing by for their use if needed and New York were recommending the back up because the area had a reputation.

Hotch went and got a shower and a change of clothes and joined Prentiss and Morgan for a rushed breakfast before they piled into the SUV with its lights flashing for a fast drive to Washington. Hotch had arranged the SWAT personnel for this confrontation yesterday morning before Jane had turned up. Jane was in a car behind them accompanied by Finlay and Paressi. Jane had eaten well and slept soundly following her interview with Reid and had shown no indication of wanting to talk any more despite Prentiss trying to chat with her the previous evening while she ate.

Morgan had driven all the way out to Gideon's cabin and waited for three hours before driving back and then snatched some sleep on the couch in Gideon's office. He didn't complain about the fruitless exercise because he felt he had done something useful and he'd enjoyed the drive out to the woods. The need for action was Morgan's great weakness and Hotch knew that it could also be the key to the man's ultimate downfall if he was not careful. Unless he learnt to curb his impatience to be doing something physical then he would not rise any further in the organisation. Hotch glanced at him as he drove them towards the capital and wondered if Morgan would ever calm down his image of the 'all action He-Man'. Angela had calmed his womanising for now but, like others, Hotch was waiting to see if it would last.

Frank sat in the diner eating a light breakfast of pancakes with maple syrup and black coffee. Yesterday, he had driven through the night all the way to New York with the Belle girl in the boot of his car. It had been raining when he got home and he felt that things were going nicely in his favour, people had been far more interested in keeping inside and dry than seeing him carrying a laundry bag up to his mother's apartment. He had kept the bank account to pay the apartments rent and the utilities. Mail was re-directed to a mailbox he collected every couple of months but nothing ever came for his Mom and the building's Super was lazy enough not to bother tenants who paid their bills regularly and were quiet. Frank had told him that his mother was a recluse and he made sure that she had everything she needed so he was not to disturb her. Frank regularly returned to give the impression that he shopped for her and always made sure that he was seen carrying in a big box of groceries on his return trips. The groceries were usually just the empty boxes and cans that he had used during his travels and when he left the apartment, he always put a bag of rubbish into the trash.

It was so easy to deceive the tenants of the building so no one thought it unusual to be seen carrying a large laundry bag with what looked like a clean bed sheet laid across the top. It amused him that New Yorkers liked to keep to themselves because sticking your nose into other peoples' business tended to bring trouble… 'Yes,' he thought, 'it had been so easy to get the girl to the apartment.' She had seemed so light as he carried the heavy canvas bag that was really the outer bag of an old marquee but it was strong enough for this purpose. The Belle child was a dead weight because he'd given her another dose of Ketamine but he was unsure of the amount to give a child and it seemed to be unpredictable in its effects on her body.

He had dusted the apartment like he always did, his mother had always kept the place clean and tidy and he continued with the routine over the years. When the girl came round he had untied her but only after he was sure that she was too terrified to sound the alarm. He let her clean herself in the bathroom but he sat on a chair by the open door so he could watch; she did not arouse him but he had to make sure that she didn't try to escape. Frank gave her the clean clothes he'd taken from her home to wear. The dirty ones he placed in the carrier bag and would toss in a trash can on the street when he left. He gave her bagels and milk and she watched him with big eyes, not saying a word and he didn't chat to her. Frank gave her the necessary instructions for their call to Gideon but she was only the lever to get his Jane back. Then when he judged it time, Frank allowed her to use the bathroom once more before suddenly coming up behind her and injecting her with a further dose of ketamine. Then he bound her limbs together again, but this time did not force her arms behind her back, he put fresh tape over her mouth and carried her into the dark bedroom. Frank had already prepared a space in the closet for Tracey, and he put her down and smiled coldly at the watchful eyes that he could just see in the light from the living room. Frank closed the closet door on the child without any words of comfort. Frank thought that his amount of ketamine was getting low after all his recent activity but he wondered if he would bother with getting a fresh supply.

He then went to the smaller bedroom and lay down on the narrow single bed and remembered the time he had lived in this apartment and the places he had been over the years. He had never needed much sleep and when he did eventually close his eyes, he never remembered dreams and this Saturday afternoon was no exception. Frank awoke to a darkened sky, he collected all the evidence that pointed to his visit and he folded up the large canvass bag, he would put it back in the car, it might be of some use another day. He saw no one when he left and he threw away the carrier of Tracey's clothes and a bag of rubbish from the food they had eaten, together with the sheeting he had used to cover her. The man then began his drive back to Washington. Frank liked night driving, he found the roads quite peaceful in the early hours, and if he timed it right he would be able to have breakfast before his appointment…

The diner was pleasant and there were a few other customers enjoying an early breakfast on what looked to be another beautiful autumn day. The black coffee was just right, the traffic had been light through the night but he needed this coffee to perk him up ready for his meeting. He had decided that he'd not tell them anything until he had Jane beside him. It was strange how he had missed her when she had left; it had been so unexpected, just like his mother had surprised him all those years ago...

He had been out on the road where he usually targeted the lone guy with the cash because he was a very good pickpocket, his mother had taught him. Mary Breitkopf had to survive in difficult circumstances after the war in Germany, and justified her actions as 'needs must' to live. In New York, she had worked as a shop assistant and a one-night stand had left her pregnant. She had not known the man; he had been a face who came occasionally to the shop and one Friday she had accepted a date with him. He had told her that his name was Tony but he soon disappeared after she had told him about her pregnancy but the other women at work had been kind and she had worked for as long as she could. One of her fellow workers gave her a cheap wedding ring, that had been in the lost property box for a couple of years, telling her it would make life easier if she pretended to be an abandoned wife. There were others who gave her gifts of second hand baby equipment and clothes and she felt the sisterhood of women in her time of need. She had not wanted to have an abortion, although Marcia had offered to take care of that if she wanted. Mary had lost so much during the war that she wanted someone to love and give her hope in the big country she had immigrated to. Mary had to work when her baby was born and she did try to find honest employment to begin with but gradually on a 'needs must' basis she had slipped back into the occasional stealing and a little prostitution.

Frank had been left with a minder but none of the women he had been left with liked him. Frank thought that they didn't understand his penchant to hurt animals that came near him and his fascination in tormenting bugs, spiders and rodents for enjoyment. He had never had pets, his Mom wouldn't allow them in their neat apartment but he liked to play with fire and watch the effect that fire and water had on these small creatures. His mother was upset when she found out about his activities and she usually had to find another childminder after each complaint. School was boring and he was soon in trouble there for being disruptive,as he liked to terrorise children who annoyed him, and by his sheer cleverness; the teachers couldn't cope with his searching and at times embarrassing questions.

His mother took him out of school to self educate at home but then she had to work nights and in the end it was easier to fall back on her old emergency job, that of prostitution and the opportunistic stealing. Mary Breitkopf was careful to target the more fastidious guys, the ones who didn't want a fast trick in the alley with the girls who worked the streets. She dressed neatly and only went to the better bars and was careful to pick up the more vulnerable, less threatening type. Her home was clean and it gave them more time, she cost a bit more but she liked to think that she provided a service for the shyer, lonely man. Mary had taught Frank the need to be silent in his room and to hide until he was sure it was safe then he'd sneak into her bedroom and take the man's wallet. He was under strict instructions not to take all the dollars but to select a few of those of the highest value. Frank then had to return the wallet carefully so the client would never suspect that some of his money had been taken, especially as Mary was careful to stay close to her client and only left him to use the bathroom.

By the time Frank was an adolescent, the pair thought 'pick pocketing' was an ideal way of acquiring cash from the unsuspecting subway passengers. They were too busy to take notice of a kid with his mom in the evening during the crush of the commuter rush. His light fingers were very good at picking the carelessly open purses or bumping into the city office worker strap hanging and holding the newspaper with his other hand. It was amazing how careless people were when carrying cash on their person. While his mother lost her looks and her attractions for successful prostitution, he took over the role of providing the money for their life style while she held down waitress and cleaning jobs which had never paid well. She began to suffer from arthritis, which crippled her hands and feet, and made working difficult for her. However, Frank was successful with his own activities and he made enough money for both of them and kept her bank account in the black to pay the bills.

Frank was very intelligent and Mary had taken some thought to self educate her son. She had taught him to read, the languages that she had learnt and he was naturally able with number. She was pleased that he loved the libraries near their home and it was here that he discovered how much pleasure could be gained from learning facts about the world. There had been times when he had held down jobs briefly for the experience, like working in a shop to get to know the weaknesses of the credit cards that were taking over from cash. There had been the interesting time spent as a veterinary assistant in upstate New York, that experience had taught him about Ketamine. The veterinary surgeon had been very impressed with his calmness when assisting badly injured animals and wanted him to stay but Frank said that he had to get back home to New York, his mother was on her own and she needed him. Frank had always used his mother as an excuse to leave legitimate employment but he only ever took honest work to gain knowledge for his later activities. If money was short he could always fall back on his expertise of picking a pocket but he very quickly progressed to more challenging, and therefore more satisfying, interactions with the humans who crossed his path…

Frank travelled around a lot, only coming back to New York to keep an eye on his mother once or twice a year. But this one time he returned home, there was a smell to the air that was stale and reminded him of decay. The apartment appeared to be in the neat state he'd come to expect but the dust told him immediately that something was wrong; he had been away almost a year exploring his new interests of fear and anatomy. When Frank entered the dark bedroom, he had turned on the light and there she was, just where she had died, lying on the top of her bedclothes in her best sapphire blue dress. There was decomposition and now the heating had been turned on centrally for the winter months, the warm air had helped to dry out the body and it was mummifying. It struck Frank that they lived in the middle of millions of people but no one had noticed that his mother was not around, she had become one of the invisible people. Mary Breitkopf must have been dead for months but no one had reported a smell, or got the Super to check up on the crippled lady on the third floor.

Frank had sat down on the chair by her dressing table and stared at her for a long time. He kept re-reading the letter she had left him, she just didn't want to live anymore, life just had no meaning for her and she didn't understand his present activities. Her world was filled with constant pain and even walking down to the shop had become an effort. She wished him well and hoped he would find a woman who would appreciate his beautiful eyes…His mother had always told him he had beautiful eyes and that was the very thing that Jane had first said to him…

He'd parked off the lonely desert road and he'd noticed car lights ahead. He'd been intending to have supper but the possibility of another victim was too much of a temptation. So far he had made a lot of money from his victims on this trip, his last one had been a man who he had over two thousand dollars in cash. His body had been heavily tattooed like no other he had seen. Frank watched this next victim, she had broken down and he had walked towards the car lights. The female had a good figure; she put the bonnet up and was looking at the engine. He had taken her in his usual fashion; there was never a struggle. He put her in the trailer and was preparing to mark her out, the pupils of her eyes seemed too large and Frank wondered what this woman had taken before setting out in her car because she was not reacting like the others he had chosen. She seemed to be having her own 'trip' into another world and calmly looked at him.

Frank's mind raced over his memories of the veterinary use and the research articles he had read on Ketamine. It was of major interest to him in his activities because it paralysed the muscles but the victim would remain conscious until they passed out with the blood loss and fear. But Jane just stared at him with those large blue eyes and didn't show the fear that the others had radiated. Jane managed to whisper in a far away voice, ' you have beautiful eyes' and he'd dropped the scalpel he had in his hand. She wasn't supposed to be able to speak, it was a sign, Frank knew this one was special…This woman was a reincarnation of his mother's soul, he told himself and he just couldn't kill her like the others…he had to cherish her.

The woman had passed out soon after and he had checked out Jane's driving licence for her address and had taken her home in his car. It amazed him as a city boy from the 'Big Bad Apple' how many people in remote areas still left their back doors unlocked. Frank had slipped in and placed her in the first bedroom he had come to with its door open and inviting him to enter. He had lain her on the bed just like his mother had lain down to die on the top of the covers and then Frank had slipped away again into the night. He had felt compelled to return to see this special woman, who had seen the beauty of his eyes just like his mother, and he had brought her the mementoes of his activities over the years.

Frank forgave her, Jane had stolen 900 dollars from him, but he had lost his temper with her and she had punished him by leaving without saying goodbye. His mother had left without saying goodbye; her letter had not been a proper farewell. Frank believed that goodbye was when you told someone to their face, just like he always told his victims that this was their good bye as he made his first cuts into them. Frank knew that if there was to be a goodbye then it would be together because he and Jane were meant to be inseparable, she was the only one to have recognised what his mother had seen in him. He looked up at the clock and made his way to pay his bill, he had to get to Union Street Station for his reunion with Jane.

Union Street Station was swarming with SWAT, fortunately early Sunday morning did mean that there were less passengers about but there were still some, this was afterall the capital's major terminal and there were always people trying to travel. The BAU operatives were all in their protective vests but they all knew that these also gave a false sense of security; a bullet to the head was the most obvious target. Morgan was hyper-vigilant and demanding over the radio if anyone had spotted their target yet. He was impatient and wanted an end to the games that Frank was playing and then there was Gideon, no one had seen him yet either.

"Gideon will be here," Hotch smoothly assured his people.

"In what capacity?" asked Prentiss sharply at his side.

Hotch turned to her, "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded in no mood for dissent at this difficult time.

Prentiss looked at him unemotionally, her cold dark eyes staring into his own and evenly replied, "As an agent or executioner?"

Hotchner was annoyed with Prentiss. The more Prentiss challenged him the more he felt that Strauss had deliberately placed her in his unit to keep an eye on them despite her claims that she did not like the politics of the Bureau. Hotch breathed deeply to control his rising anger with this woman but before he could reply to her his radio demanded his attention.

The disembodied voice said, "12 o'clock, platform 11, target east bound."

Prentiss was still waiting for his reply but he curtly said to her, "We're about to find out."

The agents swiftly made their way to platform 11, racing up the steps. Emerging into the sunlight they saw Frank calmly sitting alone on a bench, a little way along the platform. Hotch spoke urgently into his radio,

"Hold your fire, I repeat, hold your fire…there are civilians on the platform!"

Morgan and Prentiss set about trying to remove the travellers off the platform but some seemed reluctant to leave as they watched in disbelief that their Sunday travelling was being interrupted by unexpected excitement. It never failed to exasperate Prentiss how stupid people could be when asked to move out of possible danger by the FBI or police. She exchanged looks with her fellow agent at the antics of the onlookers who wanted to know what was happening and if possible to stay and watch.

Meanwhile, in New York, agents Jareau and Reid were making their way inside the tenement building towards the Breitkopf apartment. The Super was with them and he had said that he'd never met the old lady, who was something of a recluse, but her rent was paid by direct debit and she was a model quiet tenant. Her son seemed a pleasant man who came to see her on a regular basis through the year so no one was concerned about her. He thought that the son had come to see her yesterday and had brought with him what looked like a big bag of clean laundry. They were dressed in their protective vests like the SWAT members who were with them but this building seemed well kept and quiet and the Super obviously wondered what all the fuss was about as he lead the way.

"That's it," the Super said pointing and Jareau and Reid advanced on the door and suddenly J.J. reached to stop her colleague. Reid turned back to her with questioning eyes.

Jareau looked earnestly at him and softly said, "Hey, no matter whatever happens this time, we don't split up, clear?"

Spencer saw a haunted look in her expressive eyes and instantly understood her apprehension and replied firmly, "Crystal clear!" and was pleased to see the worry disappear.

The Super softly turned the key in the lock and the door swung silently open.

"Wait here, " Jareau softly ordered the Super who felt totally out of his depth. This situation just seemed so strange to him because this block was a nice quiet place and they had never had any trouble until their arrival this morning.

"Yes Ma'am," he said and stepped out of the way, the apartment looked very neat and tidy to him and thought that they had probably got the wrong information, perhaps someone had deliberately sent the Feds on a wild goose chase.

The alert agents entered with the three man SWAT team, Jareau leading the way with their guns drawn. Sunlight lit the corridor as they entered, it was coming from the kitchen which a member of the SWAT team swept in to make sure was clear and then opened the bathroom door that was next to it and re-emerged quickly to nod that all was well. Jareau and Reid entered the living room that had the two blinds pulled down but sunlight was still forcing its way through the old threads. One of the SWAT team gently raised one of the blinds and the room was shown to be neat and clean even if the furniture was dated and a little worn.

Reid was struck by the fact that there was no living thing in the room. Often people will have a plant, even if it's just a cactus when they live in an apartment, to give them some connection with plant life to make up for the lack of a garden. The men had checked another door off the living room and it had lead to a small unoccupied bedroom. They now waited before the door, that from the apartment plans, was the master bedroom and where they were expecting to find the sleeping Mary Breitkopf. The biggest of the SWAT team gently turned the knob and the door soundlessly swung open to a dark room, the drapes in this room were of a better quality and lined to encourage sleep. He entered but sensed something wasn't quite right, there was a shape on the bed but the smell was oddly stale and he felt alert.

Reid and Jareau had followed on his heels and it was a knowing Reid who said, "Let some light in" as the SWAT member got to the window. He opened the drapes to flood the room with light.

"Oh god!" whispered Jareau at the sight on the bed and the other SWAT members crowded into the room aswell and stood speechless at the scene before them.

Reid was the first to recover because the smell had reminded him of one of his first crime scenes with a mummified body, "She's been dead a very long time, Frank just didn't bother to inform the authorities because he would probably have lost his bolt hole in New York. Well, so much for finding out anything from the mother."

Then they heard a thumping noise coming from the closet just inside the bedroom door. The agents once more became alert with their guns at the ready not knowing what they were going to find. J.J. reached out and opened the door and there, to their surprise, was the tied up and gagged Tracey Belle. She had been trying to get their attention since they had entered the room by throwing her body against the closet door.

They put their guns away and suddenly gave the distressed child all their attention.

"Tracey, it's all right, you're safe now," J.J. re-assured bending down to tear the tape quickly off her mouth, "I'm sorry I had to do that as fast as I could. I'm J.J. do you remember me?"

"'K" she replied in a whisper, her eyes big with the sudden light in her dark cell.

Jareau heard Reid order the SWAT team to block the bed so Tracey wouldn't see it and then bent down to speak to the girl.

"I'm Spencer, remember we met before?" he said gently and was pleased when she nodded in recognition. "I'm going to lift you out of the closet and take you into the living room, you're safe now and we'll get a call in to your Mom and Dad."

Tracey nodded and then felt a bit embarrassed, "I…I'm a bit wet, " she whispered apologetically.

"Oh Tracey, we don't mind about that we're all just pleased to find you safe. J.J. will take you back to the office here and there'll find you some clean clothes, all right. I'll just lift you as gently as I can because I bet things have been a bit uncomfortable in here." Reid whispered assuringly back to the brave child.

Reid reached and gently lifted her out of the closet and Tracey felt a tear escape, she had been so frightened in the cupboard but these people were being so kind to her and suddenly she was in the living room and placed on a chair. Jareau could now see with ease to untie the knots around her wrists while Reid hunkered down to re-assure her again that she was safe. Tracey then just burst into tears with the sheer relief of being free and once her wrists were untied she flung her arms around the thin agent. Reid hugged her and whispered that she was safe now and that J.J. had a special phone call to make and then he untied her ankles. Meanwhile J.J. had taken the hint to make that special call that would lead to the Belles being informed that their daughter was rescued and Reid assured Tracey that they would want to talk to her soon. Spencer Reid thought how precious childhood was and that this poor child had more than her fair share of trauma to last a lifetime.

The smiling Jareau approached them and offered Tracey her phone, "Mommy and Daddy…" Tracey smiled and excitedly grabbed the cell and spoke quickly the first things that came into her head.

"I'm safe now Mommy the people who helped me in Ozona found me and they are with me now and they say its all right and I tried to be brave…"

Jareau and Reid stared at each other over her fair head and grinned. The normally fastidious Reid didn't mind that the child's damp clothes had left damp patches on his shirt. This was an unexpected bonus and they hoped that their colleagues were having an equally successful outcome with the Washington meeting. Reid had received a very brief call from Max around 1:30 that morning to say that he knew Gideon was safe but he couldn't give any further details. Reid had been greatly relieved by the news and managed to sleep until the pilot arrived to tell them that the plane was ready. He hoped that things were finally going their way because so far this weekend had been traumatic for the BAU.

As Jareau and Reid were entering Mary Breitkopf's apartment, the rest of the team was occupied in Washington. Hotchner made sure that all the civilians were off the platform areas so Frank could not use them as shields. He then quietly made his way towards the unperturbed man still sitting quietly on a bench. He didn't appear to have any luggage with him and to the casual observer they would think him just a normal passenger perhaps waiting for a local train to take him a short stop.

"Frank," Hotchner said to get his attention

"Agent Hotchner," Frank said and smiled, "We haven't had the pleasure of a formal meeting."

"Where's Tracey Belle?" Hotch asked without any preamble or pretense of wanting to enter into any pleasantries.

Frank just smiled but there was no warmth in his eyes as his mouth curled, "Do you have something for me?" he asked quietly, totally unperturbed that the station was swarming with highly trained SWAT personnel.

"No, I don't," Hotch replied.

"Then you'll never see her again," Frank calmly answered and Hotch felt that he was beginning to truly understand why Gideon had made the unusual pact with this living devil to get the children back in Nevada.

Hotch lifted his radio to his mouth, "Go ahead, bring her in."

Hotch watched Frank's face as it showed anticipation and smugness at the thought that he was getting his way again and deep inside Hotch felt only repugnance towards this arrogant cold bloodied killer. Then he saw the pale eyes light up and Hotch knew he had seen Jane. Hotchner turned and saw Prentiss walking with Jane at the far end of the platform and Frank rose from the bench to greet the woman he had tracked down. Hotch moved towards them to keep himself between Frank and Jane.

"Where's Tracey, Frank?" Hotch repeated.

But Frank ignored Hotch and concentrated on the woman he had sought out over the years.

"Did you think I wouldn't come looking for you?" he asked the untidy woman with a gentleness that surprised Hotch.

"You killed three innocent women, Frank, why?" Jane asked in reply trying to understand how she could feel this attraction for a man who was so cruel to other women and could so callously use a child as a bargaining tool.

Frank smiled at her and his eyes softened, "Without you I am lost," he stated simply and concentrated on capturing Jane's eyes.

"Tracey, Frank," reminded Prentiss.

"Not until we're safely away," he calmly replied but his eyes never left Jane.

But Jane showed an unexpected strength, "Stop it, Frank, I'm not going," she firmly said and the watching agents were captured by the emotional tension between these two strange individuals.

"It's you and me…forever," said the persistent Frank.

"I can't go with you," Jane repeated her independence.

"I will never be taken by these…people and without you I will not stop, not ever," Frank stated and Hotch felt some sympathy for the woman caught in this emotional black mail.

Suddenly there was Gideon and Hotch felt unprepared by his appearance. Gideon was unreadable with his gun pointed at Frank and steadily approaching the murderer of his Sarah. Hotch remembered Prentiss's earlier words…was Gideon an agent or executioner, either way at that particular moment, Hotch felt he was not in control of the situation.

"Sarah was a doctor. She was the mother of three boys…" Gideon said with a quality of intense passion to his voice.

"Hello Jason," Frank said calmly showing no intimidation at Gideon's threatening appearance.

But Gideon ignored him and continued, "She worked and ran a treatment centre for patients with terminal cancer."

"Do you know the birders term 'twitching', Jason?" Frank asked pleasantly and smiled.

"She dedicated her life easing the pain of others," continued Gideon and Hotch watched this pair talking at each other, on parallel lines but never connecting.

Frank just continued his conversation as if Gideon had never spoken, "The pursuit of a previously located rare bird…"

"You took the lives of 100s…All because your mother was a whore," said Gideon his gun never wavering but Frank stopped, the sneering smile was wiped from his face.

Hotch picked up the theme effortlessly, "Mary Louise Breitkopf, single mother, German immigrant. Lived on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Gave birth to an only son, Frank Breitkopf, a bright but ultimately strange boy, a boy only a mother could love. His needs were such that even the three jobs she worked didn't provide for this special child. A child she could not let out near the world…and when she turned to the oldest profession, the boy witnessed every terrible visitation," he said as he watched Gideon's tension dissipate a little.

"You're not a rare bird, Frank. Nothing special about you…you're common, pedestrian…boring," said Gideon with more calmness than earlier.

But Frank once more turned his attention solely to Jane and proffered his hand towards her in a pleading gesture, "Jane, this world, we don't fit in. No one understands what we are," he said gently to her.

But Gideon was appalled by this man's hold over the woman, "Jane, he sees you as his mother, nothing more nothing less."

But Frank continued to weave his spell, "Have you ever been happier than when you've been with me?"

Jane was lost to his beautiful eyes just as Frank hoped she would be.

"Never," Jane whispered.

"Didn't we have fun, Jane," Frank's voice enticed her memories.

Both Gideon and Hotch sensed Jane weakening, "Jane!" they cried in unison as Jane began to move forwards.

But Jane was not listening and only answered Frank's question, "So much," and she knew that her destiny was with him.

"I love you," Frank said to her and the watching agents only felt horror at the thought that this psychopath could utter words that he could, by definition, never feel.

"I love you too," Jane said and she reached out and their hands were suddenly one.

It was then that the couple suddenly swiftly moved as a single entity to the edge of the platform.

Gideon realised what they were going to do but couldn't cover the distance to stop them, "Jane! Jane!" he called hopelessly but although he and Hotch were moving towards them they flung themselves into the path of an oncoming train. There was the heart stopping screeching of brakes but the driver couldn't stop his train in that short a distance. Hotch felt numb, Frank had not told them where Tracey Belle was and they had no idea.

Prentiss looked at the two men in wide-eyed shock at what she had just witnessed and the thought of the missing child and her poor parents. She felt a gentle touch on her shoulder and she looked up into the serious eyes of Morgan, "Gideon probably doesn't know that we didn't get the whereabouts of Tracey," he whispered and Prentiss felt sick.

"Bastard!" Gideon muttered to Hotch, "I wanted him in custody so he could rot…"

"Gideon, We don't know where he left Tracey Belle," Hotch said to him quietly.

"Oh God!" whispered Gideon in horror and felt a pain deep in his chest. How could he have been so selfish, he had been so intent on telling Frank about the goodness he had destroyed. Gideon had thought that Hotch had already got that information about Tracey because he had allowed Jane on the platform.

Hotch observed his senior profiler and friend. Gideon looked so pale and careworn and seemed to be shrinking into himself as his mind processed the consequences of the morning.

"There will be an internal enquiry, Gideon," Hotch said softly but he wondered how much more could go wrong today. Their last hope was the mother but he had not heard from Reid and Jareau.

"Gideon," said a familiar voice and Hotch and Gideon both turned to see Max standing behind them, "Gideon, give me your gun," Max calmly commanded holding out his hand. Hotch felt a shock through his system as he realised he had not taken Gideon's gun after the incident on the platform. Gideon didn't comment and did as asked, and Max put it in an evidence bag. Hotch knew that both he and Gideon were going to have to face some difficult questions back at Quantico.

"Gideon, I want you to come to the station foyer with me and we'll wait together until Don arrives. I can tell that neither of you got where he'd left the Belle child," Max said and he met Hotchner's eyes with a flash of anger. Hotch felt that all of the warnings Max had given were coming his way at super light speed and the critics of the BAU were going to have a field day.

Hotch was worried as Gideon made no attempt to reply or protest and meekly walked alongside Max as the two made their way off the platform.

"What's going to happen now?" Morgan asked and Prentiss stood at his side still wide- eyed waiting for their boss to reply.

"Gideon will be taken back by the psych team. They will be there while he gives his statement and they will be continually assessing him. But first we have to sort out this scene and get it processed and we still have to try and find Tracey," Hotch wearily replied and began to issue orders for SWAT to keep the platform secured. The Station personnel were waiting for permission to take the few passengers off the train that had been used for the suicide. They all felt sorry for the train's driver and hoped that he would get the necessary counselling over the coming weeks to help him through the aftermath of that morning.

As Hotch began to walk back towards the main foyer to be with Gideon, his cell rang. Reid calmly told him that they had found Tracey in a closet at the Manhattan apartment alive and at that moment she was talking to her parents. Hotch felt a tremendous weight lifted from his heart.

"Reid that's great! One moment… Morgan, Prentiss, Tracey's safe, they found her at the Manhattan apartment…Morgan go and tell Gideon!" Morgan took off to give the great news to the very subdued senior profiler.

As Hotch reached the waiting area, Gideon's colouring had returned a little. Max was off to one side talking to Morgan and Prentiss suddenly heard Hotch say,

"Hang on a second, I'm walking to him…just one second" and he strode quickly to reach Gideon, "Here he is…It's for you," he said to Gideon who took the cell with a puzzled expression.

"Hello?" said Gideon warily but Hotch was smiling.

"Agent Gideon?" Tracey asked.

"Tracey!" Gideon exclaimed and Max and Morgan looked up and towards the smiling older man.

"I just wanted to call and thank you…Thank you,"

"You're welcome," Gideon replied quietly and Tracey then handed the cell back to J.J. who then ended the call.

"Oh god, I'm so relieved that something went right today," Gideon quietly said to Hotch.

Hotch nodded but he also mentioned what was on his mind, "I'll still have to face Strauss with the mess of this weekend but Reid and J.J. have done well. You really would have been proud of how Reid handled Jane yesterday. Apparently they found a very dead mother in the apartment and a suicide note that she had written to Frank 30 years ago,"

"So that's what sent him on his killing spree," Gideon surmised.

"We'll never know will we, because she only mentioned unspecified behaviour…anyway it will all go in Frank's file. At least we can close it now,"

"Yeah," said Gideon wearily, "Only that's four women's lives Frank took this weekend, I feel everything has been so senseless…even Jane, she…"

"She chose to be with him in the end, perhaps they really did have a strange kind of love between them," Hotch said thinking about the odd connection the couple had.

"By definition, a psychopath cannot love," interjected Prentiss who still dismissed any idea of a relationship of any real depth between Frank and Jane.

"Who are we to judge so conclusively," replied the weary Gideon, "Love can make people do strange things…even crazy things."

Prentiss stared at the older man, who was now looking down at the floor and appeared deep in thought, and then at the Unit Chief who was watching the senior profiler with concern. Prentiss thought that the whole weekend had been a crazy time of needless violence where the innocent had suffered.

Max and Don walked over and stood before Gideon.

"It's time to go, Jason," said Don softly and Hotch noticed that there was compassion shining from his blue eyes for this man.

Gideon gave no resistance and rose not even looking at his colleagues as Don walked him to the waiting car. Max gave Hotch a searching look and said for his hearing only, "We've been incredibly lucky to have found the girl."

Hotch nodded and felt the tension tighten his stomach, he would at least be able to give one successful spin to the incidents of the weekend before his Section Chief.

Meanwhile back in Manhattan, Jareau took Tracey to the Bureau's offices there to get clean clothes, have a doctor check her over and wait for her parents to arrive. Reid waited at the apartment for the Crime Scene officers to process the rooms and re-read the suicide note written all those years before. He found that he couldn't resist going back to Mary Breitkopf's bedroom and staring at her body. Reid wondered if this could have been his own mother's fate if he had not taken the distressing move to have her committed. It had been his greatest fear when he had moved away to study at Harvard. It was bad enough when he had arrived home after the first term there to find the house in such a mess and his Mom very disorientated with hardly any food in the house, just a few cans of soup and one of beans. He could not get out of her when she had last eaten any fresh fruit or vegetables and, after calling the Social Services department, found that her case worker had changed again and his Mom had not allowed her access.

It had been his most difficult decision but now looking at the remains of Mary Breitkopf he was glad that he had taken that step to have her placed into institutional care and knew it had probably saved her life. Spencer Reid thought it sad that he, the son, had eventually done the very thing that his father had not been able to do. Perhaps William Reid had loved her so much that he couldn't bear the thought of being the one to confine her once vibrant spirit that he had treasured enough to marry. Spencer felt a sense of peace wash over him; his father had loved Diana Reid but that very love had prevented him from taking the necessary decisions for her future when she could no longer take them for herself. Diana had been right, her husband had been weak by running away from the problem but the son had stood and faced it and then suffered years of guilt. But this morning in a sunlit Manhattan apartment, Spencer felt that guilt lift from his soul and he truly forgave himself realising how much he had grown since his time at the Clinic. Hankel had been a turning point in his life and could have destroyed him but the people at the Clinic had helped him see his life experiences as a strength. He knew he had changed, he had more confidence in his abilities and emotionally he was far more stable than he had ever been.

Spencer wondered if Frank had felt any distress when he had found his Mom. If Frank had not committed suicide, Spencer would have talked with him about that time he had come home to find her dead. But Frank obviously felt something for his mother because he had kept this apartment clean and basically unchanged from that time as a kind of shrine to her existence. Perhaps it was Frank's way of showing that he did care for her, his kind of love for a woman who had been forced into prostitution to make ends meet. Reid got up and went back to the living room; the sun filled the room with warmth and dazzling brightness.

Spencer felt sorry that Jane had chosen to end her life with Frank, she had been an interesting study but he also felt that in her way Jane had cared about Frank…a kind of love. 'Love,' he mused, 'did he love Jo?' Spencer thought he did because his life would be so empty now without her and perhaps Jane and Frank had felt the same inter-dependence about their relationship too. He wondered if he was being selfish to think in those terms but he did try to please Jo, do things that they enjoyed together and they did share a similar outlook on life…so he thought that did constitute a level of love. Then there were those physical things that were linked with strong emotions…the joy at seeing her face light up at seeing him come home. The simple pleasure of holding her close and feeling her heart beat, trusting her to see him at his most vulnerable… 'Yes,' thought Spencer, 'he loved Jo, and totally trusted her not to knowingly hurt him and those feeling were reciprocated in his treatment of her.' It was so strange, he had studied all the great love poems and stories of classic passion but reading and feeling strong emotions for yourself were very different. There had been those early relationships at Harvard and Princeton that were part of his growing up emotionally but then he had met Joanna. The experience was beyond words for the sheer breath-taking depth of passion and his relationship with Jo had changed him forever. He now could identify with those poets and writers who had tried to capture the intensity and he dreaded the thought of these feelings ever ending. But knowing this depth of passion only made him more aware of the price one paid to love with such depth.

There was a sudden sharp rap on the door snapping him out of his roving thoughts and Spencer strode across the room to open it for the Crime Scene personnel. The older man identified himself as the Senior Forensic Officer and leader of the team that would be dealing with the formal processing of the apartment.

"Jeez…this is different!" the tiny bald middle aged team leader said to the younger alert red head, whose gangly stature was a total opposite to his superior.

Then the experienced Agent Hogan arrived. Reid and J.J. had met Hogan at the airport and he was their contact with the New York Office while in the city. Hogan was there now to tie things up for them so they could travel back with the Belles.

"She's a bright kid," Hogan said conversationally as Reid put his jacket on and picked up the protective vest to take back to the car.

"Yeah, we were careful to hide the bed from her but Frank wouldn't have harmed her, he only went for adults…he liked to see fear in his adult victims," Spencer explained.

"I was talking to the Super, he's pretty upset…They had no idea what was going on…but, you know, this is the Big Apple and we tend not to poke our noses into other people's business. Anyway, you can take the SUV, I'll lock up here when they're finished, Sam…the photographer is on his way…Weird case though! But good to meet you, Reid, and hope we'll see you again," Hogan said holding out his hand and Spencer shook it firmly knowing that this was as friendly as the New York Office got, and 'wanting to see you again' was praise indeed from these hard-boiled agents.

**Sunday afternoon**.

It had been a pleasure to take the Belles back on the jet, they had received special permission from the Director himself and the Belles' were grateful for the gesture.

Mr. Belle had come over to speak to both J.J. and Reid on the short flight back to thank them for their sensitive handling of their daughter. The New York Office had briefed the parents about the apartment. As far as they could tell Tracey had not seen anything in the bedroom because it had been dark when she was placed in the closet and Agent Reid had quickly got her out to the living room when found. The Belles were obviously relieved but they knew that there was still the aftermath of Carrie's murder and Tracey's own kidnapping to deal with and it would not go away overnight for any of them.

Mrs. Belle and Tracey sat close together hugging and watching the clouds and finding shapes within them. On landing, the Bureau had also provided a car for them to take them back to McLean. They were not returning to the house but to the home of a friend until the blood from the crime scene was cleared up. On Monday, the Belles would be seeking a new house to get away from the memories and only hoped that they would be able to sell their present one after the murder of Carrie.

The two agents went back to Quantico to find that Morgan and Prentiss had finished their reports and had already left but Hotch was still waiting for his returning people and listened to their accounts. They then both decided to type up their reports before drawing a line under the case and going home. Reid lingered deliberately taking longer over his report by going off and making coffee and taking his time over it. After Jareau had left he went to see Hotch in his office.

Hotch knew he would come and he waited quietly thinking over how he would explain everything to Strauss tomorrow.

Reid tapped on the open door, his report in his hand and waited for Hotch's permission to enter his personal space. Reid thought how tired and pale the Unit Chief looked and noted the lines of tension and the way he was restlessly letting his thumbs circle each other and occasionally made them touch into a steeple while the fingers remained clasped. It was a characteristic indication of the stress Hotch was under and he had observed it several times since he had taken over as the BAU's Chief.

The Unit Chief looked up and Hotch couldn't stop the flash of anger that Spencer saw momentarily in his brown eyes.

"You're pissed off with me because I dared to call Max," Reid simply stated because he calculated that this was the best way to cope with an angry Hotch.

Hotch had not been expecting such a direct approach and it took some of the anger away by being so blunt, "I know why you did it…I've just had a very difficult weekend and had to make some decisions that I never want to face again," he admitted.

Reid still stood before his desk and respected the admission Hotch had just made.

"Frank was playing all of us, then there was Jane who was playing her own hand because of her loyalty for the man she strangely loved…Usually cases don't get to be this personal…"

"You going to quote me the statistics?" Hotch challenged.

"I don't think you really want to hear them, but we were lucky to find Tracey in the end but quite honestly we had not been expecting that and I don't think Jane would have pointed us in that direction either. I think Jane still thought Mary Breitkopf was alive by the way she spoke about her. I only called Max because I saw that you were in a difficult position and I didn't know how to protect you and Gideon and the department…I wasn't intending to be disloyal but I felt someone like Max would have some idea of where Gideon might bolt to."

"Yeah, well I…I've had Prentiss challenging me from the start on Friday, then Morgan joined in and finally you! Actually Max was a help but I've still got to face Strauss tomorrow," Hotch ran a hand through his short dark hair.

Spencer didn't really know what to say because he knew that Hotch had been placed in a difficult situation and he hoped that he would never have to stand in his shoes.

"You should get home to your family, play with little Jack and try and have a normal evening and get some sleep. We can't alter the outcome of this weekend's events and we all tried our best against an intelligent and highly manipulative psychopath. You will need to be rested to cross swords with the Dragon Lady!"

"Reid!" said Hotch but a faint smile touched his lips, "You're beginning to sound like Gideon and what's this… 'Dragon Lady'?"

"Well its how I think of her," confessed Reid, "She does seem quite formidable in that large office and have you noticed how her smile is quite cold because the eyes don't soften but they try to pierce through your armour?"

Hotch chuckled despite himself at the absurd picture Reid had just created but he knew he had a point, "So Sir Spencer, even in his armour, doesn't like entering the Dragon's lair?"

"No, although she has always been reasonable with me but I just don't relax with her. Perhaps I'm expecting her to breathe out fire and roast me for her snack,"

"Reid!" laughed Hotch and was grateful for the young man's gentle humour, "There's not enough on you to make a snack, perhaps a tiny morsel…"

Reid grinned but both men knew that Strauss had a lot of ammunition to fire at the BAU and everyone at Quantico had heard rumours about the coming financial settlement.

"Come on, we had both better get home to our patient loved ones," Hotch said and Reid felt that he had managed to ease a little of his leader's tension but he didn't envy his audience with the 'Dragon Lady'. The two men left the building together and tried to leave the events of the weekend behind them.

It was early evening by the time he entered his apartment. Spencer could hear the sound of the Bach violin Sonata in C, about half way through the fugue he judged as he hung up his brown cord jacket.

Spencer slipped quietly into the living room, noting that the tall glass vase on the dining table had a change of flowers, peach and creamy white roses now graced the room, and he saw the back of Jo typing at the computer. Reid just stood for a few moments appreciating just how precious she was to his existence. He knew that he was not the only man on the team who had to firmly tell himself that the events of the weekend had been extremely unusual; the partners of agents were rarely targeted by Unsubs. However, the events had served as a reminder of how sometimes we take for granted the most priceless things we have in this life.

She suddenly turned and beamed at him, and then they were in the middle of the big living room in an embrace. Jo and Spencer were both very private people and this lead them to be very retrained in public, holding hands was the most affectionate touching they usually displayed, but behind closed doors was where the couple shared a very passionate world. That evening was a time of such passion and for Spencer it was an affirmation of the love and utter trust in being seen as vulnerable with this woman he loved.

Hayley was as delighted to see her husband as their son. Jack took up his father's time until he went to bed. This was the way Hotch had always been since Jack's arrival and once Jack was in bed he would then give Hayley his whole attention. Hayley could understand it all, she knew Aaron loved them both but Jack got to have the time with his Daddy if he was still up. But sometimes Hayley would have liked just a little more attention when he walked through the door than the "Hi, I'm home!" greeting and, if near enough, a peck on the cheek. She felt a little guilty at her selfish thoughts, Aaron was a good father and he had a demanding job that he threw his heart into while at work and they didn't always have regular hours. Even when he was a prosecutor he had brought his workload home with him and would spend hours in the study after dinner. Hayley had married a man who was committed to the hilt in everything he did but sometimes she would have liked a little more time with him herself. He had cheerfully gone and given Jack his bath and was now putting him to bed, she could hear him telling Jack the simple story of the tiger going shopping. Aaron was a good husband, but just didn't work regular hours like other men. She had discussed this with Bethany Eades along with her sense of failure following her recent miscarriages. Bethany had made her once more realise just how much this husband of hers was special alongside their precious son.

Aaron re-appeared and came to sit with her on the brown leather couch; he put his arms round her and pulled her towards him. Hotch needed the closeness and understanding of his wife this evening.

"It was a hellish case, four innocent women dead and a child kidnapped…but we found the child and the psycho's dead," he whispered to her. But Hayley sensed there was more to this case because he was still very tense and it was unlike him to be still wound up so tightly after playing with Jack and participating in his bedtime routine.

"What's wrong?" she asked and hoped he would trust her enough to tell her all of it.

"The first victim was Gideon's girlfriend, she was murdered in Gideon's apartment…." and Hotch unburdened himself to his wife and couldn't even stop himself mentioning his fears over his position with Strauss.

"She will get rid of me if she can. Strauss doesn't understand the real nature of our work. She is also very ambitious and sees me as a threat. I think she dreams of being the first female Director."

"Look, we've moved before and at the end of the day you can always go back to law that's why you kept up your Bar Association membership," Hayley replied and felt that perhaps with all the uncertainty over funding, then reviewing his career options might be a good thing. However, deep in her heart, Hayley also knew that this demanding work was oddly satisfying to her intense husband and if he was moved from the BAU he would miss it.

"Let's go to bed," he said suddenly, "I need to forget about what I've seen over the past few days."

Hayley gave him a sympathetic smile and got up and then held out her hand to pull him playfully off the couch. She felt that after hearing about Gideon's plight they needed to make the most of the time they had together because life was far too fragile.

**Monday**

The team, minus Gideon, were all back at their desks by 9 a.m. and each grateful for the life affirming hours they had spent with their respective partners. Max had phoned Hotch with the assessment of Gideon and the psych team wished to him keep out of the field for a few weeks at least and he would not be in work that week anyway because he was allowed compassionate leave. Don was once more in charge of his counselling and he had arranged accommodation for him at a safe house for a few days. Hotch understood the reasoning as Gideon was stressing that Sarah was an old friend and that things had not got that serious. Max and Don both felt that he was in denial and that Gideon needed time to just be with his grief for a few days. A 'clean up' team had been arranged to take care of the bloodied apartment but they both knew that Gideon would probably not want to return to his home after what had happened to Sarah. Hotch called the team together to tell them that Gideon would not be around for a few days at least and none of them looked surprised only subdued as the memories of Friday night flooded back.

Hotch spent most of the morning waiting to be summoned to an interview with Erin Strauss. He had sent in their reports so she would find them on her desk as she came in that morning and he was sure that she was thinking about her strategy for dealing with the BAU department. The call didn't come until after lunch, she had obviously given him plenty of time to 'stew' in order to feel that she had the upper hand. Hotch walked along the corridor gathering his strength but he was very tense on the inside even if he looked superficially calm.

When Hotch entered her office he remembered Max's words weeks ago about how Erin Strauss was afraid of psychologists so he should use his skills if ever he felt threatened by her. Hotch found himself seeing the office with new eyes, he began to prowl looking at the diplomas, noting the family photographs, the bonsai plant and absurdly remembered that Gideon had told him that Reid had a bonsai plant in his apartment. Hotch even noticed the neatly aligned magazines on the counter, it was all ammunition should he need to attack.

Erin Strauss watched Hotchner and was perplexed by his behaviour and wondered if this was a manifestation of the stress that happened to people in some of the Bureau's departments. She had been warned when she had been appointed that the BAU was an unusual unit where the agents trained as criminal profilers did experience a high incidence of stress. Max Pentall had told her that 'burn out' was not unusual and not to blame herself if people did suddenly leave, ask for transfers or appear to have more counselling sessions than other departments. However, Agent Hotchner had always seemed so cool under fire so his present behaviour was unusual for him.

She eyed him watching his tense movements, "I've never seen you like this before," she icily observed.

Hotch continued to mentally analyse her working space, but replied enigmatically, "You have not seen what I've seen."

"You chose the BAU," she countered evenly and watched feeling increasingly uncomfortable as he continued to look around her room. Then he suddenly concentrated upon her and began to speak,

"True, I enjoy my work. Even in the pursuit to understand why a person feels a compelling need to brutally torture, murder and dismember a child, mother or father, an entire family. It's not pleasant work. The unsubs, devoid of any morality, humanity, remorse, …when caught often come to believe that we're the only ones who understand them…And they're right, we do, otherwise how could we catch them," he replied to her and knew now where to strike should she threaten his team.

Strauss sat back in her chair wondering if this man was on the edge of a break down. She had read through the agents' reports on the weekend's events and she was appalled by some of the actions the team had taken. The Maryland Police had complained to the Bureau. They were not happy because they felt that the BAU had not been fully open with them over the whereabouts of Agent Gideon. The newspapers were beginning to ask questions about the vicious murders over the weekend and the lack of details about the circumstances leading to those deaths. Then there was the matter of the double suicide at the Union Street Station. Erin Strauss took a deep breath; she needed to hear Hotchner's account of the matter.

"Tell me what happened Friday, after Agent Gideon called you?" she commanded.

"I received a page…" Hotchner began dispassionately and recounted all the events, and explained all his decisions, during the very long weekend. "Once again the team had battled a monster and won," he finally finished at the end of his full account.

"The future of the BAU is not in the balance here. But the residue impact as a result of the investigation, into the crimes and criminals you pursue, is. Every cause as an effect…" she said firmly.

Hotch scoffed, "You think I don't know that?" he replied sharply.

"I believe you are no longer effective in your post," Strauss bluntly countered. Hotch now knew that he alone was Strauss's intended victim. She had the power to move him but he was going to make her uncomfortable if that was her intention.

Hotch calmly scanned the room and knew that Max's wisdom was needed at this precise moment.

"The modern furniture, the strategically placed magazines, the framed diplomas, the art on the wall…all conflict with your family photographs. You have three children but you favour the middle one, your son."

Strauss looked at him in wide-eyed disbelief, "What are you doing?"

"Of course you love all your children, but not like your son…"

"That's enough!" Strauss interjected.

But Hotch ignored her and continued his analysis, "The bonsai you obsessively nurture is to compensate for the feelings of failure as a mother…"

Strauss rose angrily from her chair, "Agent Hotchner, I said that is enough! My position is not in question here. As your superior I am questioning your ability to lead your team," she said as she tried to regain the upper hand.

"My team, let me tell you about my team," Hotchner smoothly continued, "Agent Morgan as fought to protect his identity from the very people who could save him, why? Because trust has to be earned and there are very few people he truly trusts. He cares deeply about the team but sometimes that makes him over react just like he did over Reid's welfare. Those actions lead him, with others, to a disciplinary hearing but the consequences of that hearing is a far more balanced person and Agent Reid has revealed his own maturity in how he reacted to those events.

Reid's intellect is a shield that protects him from his emotions and at the moment his shield is under repair… Reid has grown to trust his emotions through his relationship with his new partner. Although Reid went through physical and psychological torture at the hands of an insane man, he has returned with a confidence in his strengths and has the potential to be a great profiler. Above all, he has shown himself to be a valuable and trusted member of the team.

Prentiss over-compensates because she doesn't yet feel part of the team…she needn't worry. It was her attempt to be seen as one of the team that lead her to play along with part of Morgan's plans to help Reid that lead her before the disciplinary hearing. However, she only acted out of genuine concern and Reid has been conciliatory in this matter.

Every day, Agent Jareau fields dozens of requests for our team, and every night she goes home hoping she's made the right choices. She has come through her own trauma following the Hankel case and continues to show herself to be a very capable agent and valuable member of the team.

Garcia fills her office with figurines and colour to remind herself to smile as the horror fills her screens. She has learnt her lesson and will never again attempt to hack into the staffs' personal medical files. Garcia now behaves with more sense where Morgan is concerned and she has set about to rebuild her reputation within the Bureau that she had lost by joining in with Morgan's stupid scheme. Reid was very understanding over her behaviour and as been instrumental in rehabilitating Garcia back into the BAU and consequently the Bureau.

And Agent Gideon, in many ways he is damned by his profound knowledge of others, which is why he shares so little of himself, yet he pours his heart into every case we handle. He is burning out because of his commitment to the work and we are trying to get him to retirement. What happened this weekend could not have been predicted and I had to trust him to keep his mind on the case in question, because he was the only one who knew Frank the best, and was the person most likely to help us to a successful outcome. I had to make difficult decisions that were totally out of the ordinary because we were dealing with exceptional circumstances which hopefully no agent will ever have to face again.

I stand by my actions and I stand by my team, and if you think that you can find a better person for the job, Good luck," said Hotch and turned to go feeling that he had justified his team and the BAU's actions over a very difficult few days.

Strauss was reeling from the assessments of herself and of his team. She knew that few agents wanted to head the unit. Only the ambitious young thought it something to aim for because of the sheer kudos attached to the team but then the reality of the work soon took its toll. Older agents were wise enough to know about the emotional price and the demanding work that could wreck relationships. "Hotch," she said needing to understand how…

"How do I know you favour your son?" he asked mildly and she unconsciously looked down at her son's photograph on her desk.

"I'm good at my job," Hotch confidently replied and Strauss felt as if her personal life had been stripped bare.

Erin Strauss sat for several minutes thinking about the gauntlet that Hotch had thrown down before her. He was undoubtedly a very clever man and a very capable agent but she felt that he was also one of the most dangerous men around and that was a threat to her career because she could not control him. However, every section was facing possible personnel cuts and Strauss saw a way to weaken Hotchner to make him a prime candidate for re-deployment. An hour later she summoned Agent Prentiss to her office for a meeting at the end of the afternoon.

Emily Prentiss had been puzzled by the call but went along to Strauss's office as instructed 'for a private conversation' which Prentiss understood to mean that no one else was to know about it.

Prentiss sat in the easy chair before Strauss's desk, while the woman came swiftly to her reasons for the private conversation.

"I put you in the BAU. I knew how badly you wanted it, everyone did, and you were never exactly shy about letting us know. But there were those who didn't think assigning you to the BAU was a good idea. They thought you were too reckless. I believed in you, however…" she smiled but it was full of cunning, "It's time to pay back the faith I had. Your team is in trouble; they're lost the sight of the big picture. I believe they are reckless and at times out of control…It's time for Agent Hotchner's career to come to an end and if you want to stay in the BAU, Agent Prentiss, you're going to help me make that happen."

Emily felt appalled but it was all her own fault that she was now in this position. It was true that she had wanted the BAU placement for years and she just did what she had done all her life and lobbied the most influential people in the organisation so that they knew it was her objective. She had seen her parents manipulate people as diplomats and they had taught her to make friends with the most influential people around you and use them to get what you want. She had eventually escaped the Section Chief's office by saying as little as possible and certainly gave no verbal agreement to the woman's plans. Strauss however was so full of her own power and interpreted Prentiss's quietness as her acquiescence.

As she drove home towards Arlington, Emily couldn't believe that Strauss expected her to inform on the decisions that Hotch made out in the field. It was spying on her boss and although she had not liked some of the decisions he had made particularly over the last weekend but, when she thought about it at the end of the case, he had some justification for the line he had taken. She was in an impossible situation. The work in the BAU was not how she imagined it would be and it was the most stressful department she had ever worked in. There were the days when they just sat at their desks working on profile requests and then there were those manic times when they were suddenly away working intently on a serious case. They didn't always find the answers, sometimes they were too late but their work caught the perpetrator and prevented further crimes but it was already having an effect on her. In the past, she had prided herself on being able to switch off from the work she did and had a very active off duty life. However, since moving to the BAU, the compartmentalising wasn't as effective and the hours they sometimes worked were having a detrimental effect on her off-duty life and relationships. She was dealing with the most violent and criminally insane individuals she could have imagined. It was one thing to read about these individuals in reports, or hear the training lecturers, but the reality of coming face to face with them and the distress of the crimes they committed were very different and her barriers were beginning to weaken already. She just didn't want to be pulled into the power play of the Bureau's politics, all she wanted to do was to try and prove to herself and to her fellow profilers that she was as good as they were.

She pulled into the underground car park of her apartment block and knew that she needed to talk this over with George, she really had grown to appreciate this man's experience and his steadiness.

End of Chapter 32


	33. Chapter 33

**The In-Between Times: Chapter 33**

**By Helena Fallon**

As usual the standard disclaimer is that I intend no infringement of copyright of the Criminal Minds series but I do claim the intellectual property of the characters I invent for these fan fiction stories.

**Reference will be made to 'Doubt' and 'In Birth and Death' but this is my interpretation of events in the context of this story. This story does not faithfully follow the events of these aired episodes of the third series.**

The three weeks following the distressing events of the Frank Breitkopf's final killing spree were thankfully extremely mundane. None of the team complained and put their heads down and worked steadily through the work Barry handed them. Gideon had returned to work after a fortnight away and seemed to be making an effort to talk to everyone sometime during the day. It was usually only a superficial conversation in the kitchen or just passing through and stopping by a desk for a few words but every one welcomed the attempt at normality. Hotch knew that Don had wished him to take more time off but Gideon had felt that he needed to be doing his normal routine to help him through his grief and Hotch could understand the reasoning behind such a decision. Sometimes it was the normal routines that did help you pick up the pieces after death and they all knew that Gideon was an essentially private man so he would not necessarily share his sorrows with those prepared to listen. The psych department understood all of this and just told Hotch and Reid to keep an eye on him if a case occurred and to check the decisions he might make. Barry had discreetly checked his written profiles before sending them back to the police departments and had been pleased to report back to Hotch that they were as good as ever.

Reid had particularly made the effort to play chess with him before going home in the evenings and had invited him back to his home for a meal on the evenings Jo had extra choir practices in the run up for a concert. Spencer was very sensitive not to force Gideon into a situation where he was with Jo and himself as a couple because he felt it would only remind Gideon of what he had lost with Sarah. Jo understood this and was not upset to find Gideon had already left by the time she got home at 10 p.m. on such evenings but she was pleased that they had enjoyed the meals she prepared for them.

Gideon had not returned to his apartment and had everything removed and placed into 'store' ready for when he found a new place. He had no enthusiasm for apartment hunting at that time and although Jo had said she would willing help when he was ready, Gideon had decided to live out of a hotel room for a while until he was certain where his future lay.

He had less than a year now before he could take early retirement but the rumours of the coming financial settlement for the FBI and the necessary cuts to accommodate it, if true, were the topic of conversation for all the Bureau's staff. Even Reid had been thinking about it all.

They were playing chess after a wonderful meal of home made vegetable lasagne. Gideon enjoyed Jo's cooking especially as her Italian grandmother had taught her to make real pasta. He envied the young man's warm home but he was also delighted that he had this stability finally in his life.

"Do you think cuts are on the cards?" Spencer had asked as he pondered his next move.

"Spencer, I've been with the Bureau through too many financial famines. What usually happens when we get a poor settlement from the government is that the Bureau then sets about a rearguard action to fight the cuts and prove that they are damaging. The Bureau amasses data to prove their point and after a couple of years we get a bigger slice of the money. While all this is happening, all departments have to tighten their belts accordingly. I suspect this time round that 'Homeland Security' and 'Counter Terrorism' will get good settlements but smaller departments, like the BAU, will probably have posts frozen so if someone leaves then they are not replaced or people are re-deployed in the organisation to cover essential positions."

"So you see us as vulnerable?" pressed Spencer.

"Yes, I think posts will be frozen," Gideon replied.

"But not re-deployment?"

"It might happen, I don't know how much our division will be apportioned and that will affect the measures that Strauss will have to take. The BAU is quite a successful unit despite our numbers but they may cut our use of the jet…perhaps we'll be confined to our desks more which at least will mean regular hours," Gideon said with a rueful smile, "Do you think you might be moved?"

"I don't know, I'm the youngest…"

"You're also experienced and Hotch would fight for you to remain with the BAU. Anyway I bet your Jo would go with you if you were sent elsewhere."

Spencer grinned, "She said she would if it came to the crunch but it would be a big wrench because she's part of a closely knit family here," Reid replied in a serious tone and Gideon realised that the young man was genuinely concerned about being sent away from Quantico.

"Spencer, the psych department don't want to loose your abilities and you mustn't think that everything revolves around Quantico. Sometimes a spell in another field office is useful for the different experiences and interaction with other agents and their ways of doing things. You know, sometimes we can get stale working with the same people all the time."

"We don't because there is some turn over of staff," Spencer countered as he moved his bishop. However, he then realised that Elle was the last person to leave and before that there had been the unsettled time after the loss of the team in Boston.

"Change isn't necessarily bad, Spencer," Gideon continued, "And if it happens to you then embrace it and make it work for your career."

Spencer nodded and concentrated on the board. An hour later they agreed that they had reached a stalemate.

"Shall I play my lute for you?" Spencer asked and Gideon's face lit up at the thought of the pleasure. "Anything in particular?"

"How about that lovely Bach you played me the first time I came to the newly decorated apartment?"

Spencer smiled and went to get his lute from its case and to tune it. Gideon sat enjoying the calmness of the large room and let the undercurrent of love that existed it this home soothe his raw wounds.

Late the next day they found themselves en route to Flagstaff, Arizona, following the campus killings of two students in the space of a few days. The campus was understandably nervous and security tight but the local police and the College authorities were grateful for their arrival at short notice. However, for Jason Gideon it was the case that was to be the straw that broke the camel's back. In Gideon's mind a college campus should represent a time of idealistic youth and happiness and for the senior profiler it had been a time of many happy memories. Those happy college memories principally belonged to when he had first meet Sarah some 31 years before. They had not met on this particular campus but it was just unfortunate that in his present emotionally fragile state, any campus would have brought back those memories with a painful vividness reminding him of all that he had lost then and a second time years later.

Gideon had not mentioned his feelings to anyone else on the team but worked solidly to produce a profile as quickly as possible, and the team worked well together to gain the confidences of the students and authorities. But as Gideon examined the scene of crimes' photographs, the faces of the victims were suddenly changed to Sarah's face. He kept seeing Sarah in the student crowds around the campus; she just stared at him with sad silent eyes. Gideon felt that he had failed to protect Sarah who had trusted him just as he was to later feel that he had betrayed the trust the students had in his ability to keep them safe. Any psychologist would have said that this was all a manifestation of Gideon's grief and sense of guilt over Sarah's death but he had not told anyone of his distress because he felt he could handle it himself. Gideon believed that his 'psychological detachment' would enable him to be effective on the case in hand.

The third victim was killed soon after the team had arrived, the Unsub seemed to be undeterred by the strong police presence and the campus security, and panic began to spread amongst the students. The Dean, Suzanne Cable, decided to close down the campus despite all the extra security that had been put into the place. This decision was to concentrate the Unsubs actions; a campus security guard, Nathan Tubbs, fitted the profile and was arrested with a dark haired student in his car but he held his nerve and demanded a lawyer. However, then a fourth student was murdered and questions were inevitably asked if they had the correct person in custody. Gideon and his team felt that this was a copycat killing and in the end gambled that if Tubbs was released, the copycat killer would contact him. Morgan and Prentiss were under instructions to follow Tubbs while Gideon and Hotch used the newly installed extra campus security cameras to try and keep track. However, the next events could not had been anticipated, when a suicidal student, Anna Begley, sought out Tubbs and took him to a quiet campus area and confessed that she had killed the latest student so that Tubbs would be released. Anna then produced a knife wishing Tubbs to kill her because she couldn't do it herself. Tubbs refused and Anna stabbed him, unfortunately Morgan and Prentiss had turned up too late to prevent this but trained their guns on Anna instructing her to drop the knife but the sick woman had turned it into herself.

Erin Strauss had seen this incident as the opportunity to suspend Hotchner for two weeks without pay pending an internal inquiry into the matter. Gideon was suspended for two weeks after he had insisted on going to see Strauss and arguing that it was all his fault for the decision made to release Tubbs and have him followed. The team were shocked, they had written up their reports and then were effectively grounded without the Unit Chief and the senior profiler. The BAU was very subdued and buried themselves with the profile requests that Barry handed out to them but no matter how many post mortems the team had over coffee, beer and meals over the next few days they kept coming back to the same conclusions.

"God…we can't mind read, we were following Tubbs and had to keep a discreet distance but how were we to know about Begley…No one had said anything to us until that student called and you and J.J. went to speak to her." Morgan said taking a drink of his beer.

"Yeah," Reid agreed as he drank his coke, "We could make the connections but the students didn't think to tell us about her behaviour until she'd dyed her hair…Katie was very observant and at least we were on to it…"

"What time are you down for the Board on Monday?" Prentiss asked as she sipped her beer.

"10 o'clock, what about you?" Morgan said eyeing Prentiss.

"11, so you and J.J. have the afternoon sessions?"

"Yeah, J.J. has 2 o'clock…I have 3 o'clock," replied Reid, "Gideon and Hotch are in Tuesday morning."

The other two agents nodded into their drinks. Morgan and Prentiss were both thinking about the last time that they had found themselves before a 'Board'. Their experiences before the Disciplinary Board had been bad enough but this was their Unit Chief and there was the general feeling that Strauss wanted Hotch out of her section.

The internal inquiry was a Board of five very senior agents drawn from outside Quantico. The chairman was Oliver Ecclestone who was Head of the New Jersey Office. He was a very experienced Bureau man who was nearly 60 and rumours were circulating that he was being pushed into retirement. He was completely bald with a florid complexion and was careful to monitor his blood pressure and he never drank alcohol. Ecclestone was 6 foot tall and of a medium build with a reputation for liking a round of golf. He was always dressed in mid grey suits and pale blue shirts with his ties giving some variety to his wardrobe and were surprisingly rather modern in their bold designs when the onlooker would have expected conservative stripes. The other Board members seemed rather like clones in their dark suits, white shirts and striped darkly hued ties which also only emphasied their similar medium builds and heights. Oliver had an air of genial authority and was respected by the other men there.

The four other senior agents sitting on the Board were Alex Thorpe, an expert in Counter Terrorism from the Texas Division. Thomas Hamilton was the Head of Organised Crime for the Washington area. Gordon Wallace was a divisional Head of Prosecution Services from the Delaware office and Viktor Dubcek, a senior manager of Scientific Support Services from the New York Office. Each man had worked extensively in the field at some time during their careers and had sat on several internal inquiries to review an agent's decisions in the field. They had each been given copies of the BAU's individual agents' reports and were at liberty to question any of the team to clarify anything about the incident that lead to the deaths of Nathan Tubbs and Anna Begley. There were also additional Police and Medical reports that had been compiled since the deaths of the two suspects and the actual security camera footage of the incident.

The first day was quite straightforward with the individual junior agents answering questions; they were consistent with the known facts. The next day, the Board was careful to question the senior profiler who insisted that Agent Hotchner should not have been suspended as he had only followed the profile that had been provided by the team and Gideon took sole responsibility for that.

"You stand by your profile Agent Gideon?" asked Hamilton.

"Absolutely, a profile is never perfect but we were in a spree killing and looking at the evidence of a confined area. The lack of defence wounds on the first three victims made us feel certain that the Unsub was part of the campus and seen as a person of trust by these women. The campus guards carried tasers and it was taser marks that lead us to check out the campus guards' backgrounds and Tubbs stood out because he had failed his psych evaluation for the police force. Tubbs had been assessed as borderline with anti-social and socio-pathic tendencies so the police obviously couldn't recruit him. Further delving revealed a broken marriage and a recent court appearance that refused him contact with his daughter…that was obviously the stressor. Further more, all the victims were brunettes and his wife was a brunette…it all pointed to him," said Gideon confidently.

"But you had problems holding him?" said Wallace.

"We had no hard evidence, I talked to him and tried to wind him up a little but he didn't break and demanded a lawyer. We could hold him 72 hours but then there was the copy cat killing so we were obviously under pressure to cut him loose."

"But you still believed you had your man?" pressed Wallace.

"Yes, that's why Hotch had Prentiss and Morgan follow him at a discreet distance when we did let him go and we also used the campus security cameras."

"The fourth victim…was definitely different?" Thorpe asked.

"Yes, we had not released all the details about the previous victims to prevent copycat killings and we had not expected this to happen because Tubbs was not the sort of person to have friends or hangers on considering the 'anti-social' assessment."

"Can you refresh our memories how the copycat was different," Thorpe probed.

"The mode of killing; this victim had been subdued by a blow to the head, probably with a large stone. The body was not posed after death like the previous victims, even the knife wounds were not of the same intensity and then there was the note. The first Unsub had not felt the need to advertise his deeds…but Reid pointed out that it was like this latest murder was the action of a groupie," Gideon quietly responded as if lecturing to a class.

"And you had no idea who this copycat killer could be?"

"No, we didn't know if it was a man or woman. The college authorities never gave us any indication that there were any mentally sick students who might act in this way…The local police had asked those sort of questions over the first murders and we asked the same questions on our arrival and again when the fourth victim was found. We were totally unprepared for what actually happened with the fourth victim…We knew that the copycat would probably try to make contact with Tubbs that was why we kept Prentiss and Morgan tailing him but we had no idea about the severity of her own suicidal tendencies. In effect she wanted Tubbs to kill her and when he refused she felt angry and humiliated and stabbed him. That's when Prentiss and Morgan came on the scene with their guns but she wouldn't drop the knife…However, you can just hear on the film, she asks them if they are going to shoot her and both agents say 'no'. …She wanted them to shoot her because she wanted to die and because they wouldn't comply she turned the knife on herself. We were all appalled by what happened, we tried to save her but the wound was too deep."

"When did you find out about Anna Begley?" Ecclestone questioned

"One of the students…Katie was in the same dorm and went to tell her that the dorm was closing down. She noticed that Anna had cut her blond hair, dyed it brunette and she was cutting her arms and thought she saw the bloodied newspaper cuttings about the murdered students on her wall. Katie rang J.J., who had spoken to the students in that dorm when we first arrived, and Reid went with Jareau to speak with her. He asked if Anna ever self harmed and if she had ever spoken about suicide. The student confirmed both about Anna but none of her fellow students believed her…they thought she was something of a drama queen…Reid rang me immediately as he saw the possibility of Anna being the copycat killer. We then passed the information to Morgan and Prentiss to keep an eye out for a woman meeting up with Tubbs and we quickly picked them up on the security cameras. The murders had made the college install extra cameras but of course because Tubbs was on the security staff and he knew all about that."

"Yes," said Ecclestone, "The detailed analysis of the security footage and enhanced sound techniques have confirmed what you and Hotch could have only surmise was happening between Tubbs and this woman. Also the lack of care for this obviously sick student was not picked up by her tutors or reported by her fellow students to the health services on the campus. The Begley family are obviously very upset but they will not be able to sue us, the failure to help their daughter lies elsewhere and before we got to the campus."

"It was not our fault," Gideon repeated firmly but he was not surprised about the parents' moves, they obviously wanted to assuage their grief by apportioning blame for their daughter's state of health at someone's door. However, this time the blame lay with the college procedures and not at the actions of the FBI personnel.

"And you feel that the whole team correctly followed procedure and worked to the best of their abilities?" Thorpe probed.

"Absolutely. We were all working under pressure but we picked up Tubbs as soon as we could. Unfortunately there was a another murder soon after our arrival but we were all committed to the case and working long shifts…Hotch even had to order people to take time out or the rooms that had been booked for us would have been re-allocated if we didn't turn up."

"Any more questions?" Ecclestone asked his fellow Board members and no one spoke, "Are we still in agreement?" and they all nodded their assent. He smiled at Gideon and the old profiler relaxed.

"It is the agreement of this Board that your suspension over this matter was over hasty. This Board having reviewed all the now available evidence, that was not considered by Agent Strauss, find that you acted in a professional manner during this investigation and you have no case to answer. Your suspension is lifted and you may take the rest of this week as personal leave." Ecclestone smiled hoping that the few extra days leave might be a little compensation for the stress of Strauss's actions.

"Thank you," Gideon said softly and rose and walked out of the room feeling as if he was dragging the bodies of all the victims from the Flagstaff campus. He should have felt elated but he felt drained and he was not sure that he wanted to even to go near the BAU at that moment. Gideon was walking from the main administration building when Spencer Reid caught up with him.

"Gideon!" Reid called running towards him in his awkward long limbed fashion and the long hair flying in the wind. Gideon was sure that Reardon would pull Reid up over that hair soon.

Gideon turned and waited for the young profiler to catch up with him.

"How did it go?" he asked, the big brown eyes shining with concern.

"Well, I told you there was nothing to worry about. Strauss acted before knowing all the facts and the security film, when analysed by the sound experts, confirmed our interpretation of events. My suspension is lifted and I can take the rest of the week as personal leave…"

"Oh that's great," Spencer beamed, "How about a game of chess tonight to celebrate... I'm sure Jo would cook us something nice?"

Gideon couldn't stop the sad smile that formed, "I've a few things to do with the rest of my day but I'll try and see you around 9 tonight in my office for a quick game if you like?"

"Yeah, OK, I'll tell Jo I'll be a bit late, and…" Reid's cell rang and he answered it, "What now?…All right I'm on my way," he turned off the cell, "Sorry got to go and talk to a detective who has just personally arrived from Richmond wanting advice on a note found to be half written in code…"

"Your reputation goes before you…Off you go and I'll see you later," said Gideon and watched Reid run in the opposite direction to where he was heading. He knew that by now Hotch would be entering the room to be questioned by the Board but he wasn't worried, Hotch would be fine. Gideon only wished that he would have the strength to finish what he knew he had to. Gideon made his way to his car, he had so much to think about and he needed some peace and quiet, the extra days Ecclestone had just given him would be useful. The senior profiler was just relieved that he had managed to keep up appearances for today but he knew that his doubts about his place in the world were multiplying at an alarming rate. He kept remembering Morgan's attitude as they boarded the plane home. The younger man was obviously upset at what he had witnessed but Gideon had reminded him that a profile was an educated guess, a tool but not perfect. The man's doubt in the senior profiler's ability kept bubbling up in Gideon's mind. Hotch had stood firm in his belief but Morgan had wavered and Gideon just didn't need a team member doubting him at that moment and he had worried about it on and off since.

Aaron Hotchner stood every inch the confident and very competent Bureau agent in his charcoal grey tailored suit, pristine white shirt and a silk tie of fine burgundy and royal blue stripes with a black thin line dividing the two colours. His short hair only accentuated the square jaw line that gave the impression of an unyielding personality. Hotchner was a man who believed in himself and the organisation he worked for, he had succeeded in every department he had been assigned to. It took dedication to cope with the pressures of the BAU and still believe that you made a difference to the world.

"Agent Hotchner, please be seated," Ecclestone invited and Hotch sat in the chair provided and stared calmly at the Board members. Over the past two weeks of his suspension he had done a lot of thinking. He had also talked a great deal with Hayley and played with Jack but the time had also made him think deeply about his career.

Hotch had decided that if Strauss got her own way and his suspension was upheld then he would resign because he was confident that all the evidence would support the decisions made by the team and he, as the team leader, took responsibility for their actions. Hotch was a very talented man and he didn't doubt that he could return to the law, in many ways perhaps the very skills he had learnt while in the FBI would help him in the court room.

"Agent Hotchner this board recognises that you have a very difficult position when in the field and you often have very little time for reflection before a decision is made. However, Agent Strauss seems to have written a particularly detailed report that covers several cases where she considers your actions dangerous and believes the team, in her words, 'are out of control'."

Hotch was not expecting this line and interjected, "Sir, this inquiry is bound by the purpose given it. I respectfully wish to remind this Board that its remit was to consider the validity of my suspension over the Flagstaff, Arizona, case where both the Unsub and a copycat killer unfortunately met their deaths," said Hotch in his lawyer's voice that reminded Ecclestone that this man had been a fine prosecutor.

Ecclestone knew that Erin Strauss had totally under estimated Hotchner and the damage he could inflict upon her.

"Yes, Agent Hotchner, I know but I am explaining clearly that this is what your supervisory agent has written as part of her explanation for your suspension. As a Board we have reviewed all the evidence of the Arizona case and asked searching questions of all the agents concerned and we have now, in all fairness, to question you." Ecclestone said calmly and could see why the Director thought so highly of this man.

"Quite bluntly, do you consider that sometimes the BAU's actions can be considered …dangerous…unlawful?" he continued.

Hotch sighed, he had not expected such a broad attack but he was good at thinking on his feet and this was what these people wanted to see and he sensed that there was more to this on Ecclestone's part.

"Gentlemen, I am by training a lawyer, I am very aware of the law and I still retain my Bar Association membership. The BAU is unique; we face some of the worst criminals. Often we meet very experienced Detectives who will say to us… 'I've never seen anything as bad as this before…' as they explain the crime scene. But often we have seen worse, not once but too many times a year. It does take its toll on the agents, and I will include myself in that, but the toll is usually in our off duty lives. While on the job we are all committed in what we are doing and that is to produce a profile to catch a monster…and often these are the psychopaths, some have been committing their crimes for years before they come under our radar. The most obvious example is Frank Breitkopf, we had to take an extraordinary step in his case when he had kidnapped a school bus of children and left them in the desert. Gideon didn't like what he had to do; we had to let him go in order to get the children back. None of us wanted to be in that situation but we put the lives of the children first…However, can you imagine the public outcry against the Bureau if we had not? Sometimes I have to agree with such decisions for the greater good. We got those children safely back to their parents who have not complained about the actions we had to take…But let me make this clear…we have all paid a price for that decision and Gideon the highest price of all.

The Nevada case and the subsequent surprise return of Frank Breitkopf have affected my team and the actions we took were not taken lightly. We had all stood in Gideon's apartment and stared at the body on his bed that had been eviscerated; there was blood everywhere. But this victim was no stranger, this was Gideon's friend so it became personal and it can be argued that we should not have even been on the case. But the only person who understood Frank's mind was Gideon because he had dealt with him closely in Nevada. The team knew Gideon hadn't murdered Sarah, and at first I had no idea where he was until he called me and I sent Garcia to be with him and to keep his mind on the case so we could try and out manoeuvre Frank. But Frank was ahead of us and two more women were butchered and a young girl kidnapped. I have only praise for my team who kept working trying to find Jane, who Frank wanted in exchange for little Tracey. However, the Director knew what was going on."

"How did the Director know?" asked Thorpe and Hotch wondered if he had said too much because Hotch had not put this explicitly in his own report but had mentioned Max Pentall's concern for Agent Gideon's welfare. But he saw a slight nod of encouragement from Ecclestone who he knew the Director trusted.

" On the Friday evening, Agent Reid had called Dr. Max Pentall to tell him that Gideon's friend had been murdered in his apartment and we, at that moment, didn't know where Gideon was but that the murder had Frank Breitkopf's signature," replied Hotch. The Unit Chief wondered how much, if anything, Strauss had been told of the Director's knowledge. Thorpe might belong in her camp but he watched the other board members carefully and Thorpe was the only one to show some surprise.

"Did you tell him to call Max?" Hamilton suddenly spoke up.

"No," conceded Hotch and then thought that it might imply dissent against his decisions but Thorpe was asking another question.

"Do your team often go behind your back?" Thorpe persisted.

"No, but these were exceptional circumstances. Reid was careful not to make calls to Max in the hearing of his colleagues and I don't believe that even now he has told them about his actions. Reid's concern was for the welfare of Gideon and myself because I was initially being less than forth coming with the Maryland Police and therefore the team as a whole was in a difficult position. Reid has been taking the responsibility for the group dynamics reports as part of his training under the Mental Health Services department here. Reid felt that Max would know how best to help Gideon, the team and of course, at the same time, the Bureau. Max kept in touch throughout the investigation and he was the intermediary with the Director."

"Yes," said Ecclestone, "Agent Reid is highly regarded in the Mental Health Services department. He only mentioned the contact with Max Pentall in his group dynamics report, which went to the Mental Health department, and not his general case report that Agent Strauss would have seen. Reid is something of a dark horse…a very quiet young man and not to be under estimated," Ecclestone said enigmatically and Hotch saw the whole Board look alert at his comment.

"He is the youngest of the team but he is an exceptional profiler, but I believe that Max's department also see him as a great asset for them should he want to move out of the BAU," Hotch conceded.

"So you admit that some of your decisions were…unusual?" probed Wallace.

" Yes, but we were dealing with a very unusual situation. Breitkopf was a very intelligent and manipulative psychopath; even now we don't know just how many victims he killed, we may never know. You see that is the problem, it is the very the nature of the work. The BAU does not deal with the normal criminal. Sometimes we may touch upon the work of a bomber, an arsonist, or paedophile, but the brutal truth is that we deal with the very dark side of humanity and none of you have stood in my shoes or those of my team. I do not mean that as an insult to the individual abilities of this Board. However, it is highly skilled work and like all departments we have our defeats aswell as the successes, fortunately we have enough success to keep us feeling that we still want to do the work. But we are dealing with criminals who have defeated the normal law enforcement agencies and they turn to our expertise to narrow down the suspects and we often point them along more fruitful lines of enquiry.

We usually work alongside the normal police, but when Frank killed Sarah Jacobs we unfortunately needed Gideon's expertise with us. I tried to give the Maryland Police enough information to keep their investigation going and I told them that we believed a psychopath called Frank was the suspect, not Gideon, but of course they wanted to interview Gideon themselves. You see even at that time we didn't even know Frank's name or where he was from…we discovered that during the frantic investigation that followed. Eventually the Maryland Police interviewed Gideon but it was at the end of the case. It can be argued that technically I obstructed them but I did so with the best possible motives for the greater good.

If I had genuinely believed that there was evidence to prove the guilt of one of my team then I would turn them over to the authorities. When Agent Morgan was incorrectly arrested for murder in Chicago, the team only tried to prove his innocence. Although as you may know Morgan escaped their custody but that had nothing to do with my team, that was their poor precinct procedures for suspects held in an interview room," Hotchner spoke with a detached calmness worthy of any courtroom.

"What about Agent Greenaway?" asked Wallace.

"Agent Greenaway passed all the Bureau's investigations into the matter and there was no clear evidence that there was wrong doing on her part," stated Hotchner evenly wondering how often Greenaway's actions would keep being thrown in his face.

"But you ordered her to have further psych evaluations after?" Ecclestone pressed.

"I wanted to make sure that she was ready to undertake field work again," he smoothly replied.

"But she didn't turn up and later she resigned…" Ecclestone probed.

"Perhaps she came to the conclusion that she could no longer do the work, it does take its toll on agents in the field," Hotch justified.

"Do you think she killed…" Wallace began.

"With all respect, I had no proof nor had the Bureau that is why the internal inquires she faced cleared her of any wrong doing," Hotch calmly stated and felt that he would not be drawn into dangerous speculation just because there were others who were suspicious of Greenaway's actions. The fact remained that there was no clear evidence to charge her with murder.

"My apologies, Agent Hotchner, I did not in any way wish to imply that your team is needlessly reckless or has a general disregard for the law. But we have had to ask these questions because they are the very kind of comments that might be aimed at them by the press and public as a whole. Like you say, nothing could be proved against Agent Greenaway to imply a wrongful shooting on her part…

We managed to keep the lid on the Frank Breitkopf case because we used his history has a psychopath to justify the actions taken. But the recent Arizona case has been stirred up by the local politicians, and by one individual in particular, for their own ends. However, all the evidence points to the college itself failing to monitor properly the welfare of its students and the result is the unfortunate suicide of Anna Begley," said Wallace who didn't want to alienate Hotchner and had considerable respect for his abilities. He knew that Hotchner had a reputation, especially for the fairness he had shown in the various departments where he had worked, and knew that the senior levels of the Bureau were concerned by the moves that Strauss had made against him.

Hotchner once more defended his team,"We had a good working relationship with the Flagstaff Police on that case, I cannot be responsible for a media hungry local politician who is out to make headlines by using the poor parents…"

"Yes, we see your point but we also have to be quite sure that when we produce our report that we are very clear as to what happened," Wallace reminded everyone in the room. His own legal mind was still very much thinking of a way to stop a media savvy politician with an eye on re-election and trying to use the FBI.

"You were pleased overall with how your team worked the Flagstaff case?" Hamilton brought the subject matter to the one that was the original reason for the Board hearing.

"I cannot fault the work of my team, both individually and collectively, the outcome could not have been predicted. We want to see the perpetrators brought to justice and we certainly had not expected a sick student to be the copycat killer. I do not know how to make it any clearer, we were as surprised as everyone else when the fourth student was killed. Gideon and I were going to use the 72 hours we could hold Nathan Tubbs to try and build a case by taking his life apart because we were that certain that we had the correct profile and the correct suspect in custody." stated Hotch clearly.

"You cannot see how things could have been done differently after he was released?" Thorpe asked.

"Hindsight is wonderful but we were under pressure because of the fourth killing and his lawyer would have milked that situation despite us explaining that we believed it was a copycat killing. The local detective was backing us and could see the logic of our argument but we had no hard evidence at that moment against Tubbs. The campus was closing down, if there had not been a copycat, then there is always the possibility that the lawyer would have got his client released. If we consider that scenario, then Tubbs might have struck again or gone dormant until the campus re-opened and that would have put the female students at risk once more. There was always the possibility that Tubbs would have turned his attention to a nearby town and still have targeted brunettes there. If that had all happened we would have been criticised for letting the Unsub go and allowed him to commit more murders.

We did not know if the copycat was male or female when we had the fourth victim but Gideon was certain that the copycat would make themselves known to Tubbs, so we kept a discreet tail on him and used the campus security cameras to keep track of his movements. I do not believe we could have done anything more. If we had been doggedly trailing him, only a few yards away, he could have complained of harassment and it would also have prevented the copycat from making a move towards him. What else do you gentleman suggest I could have done? I stand by the actions we took. The deaths of Anna Begley and Nathan Tubbs were not anticipated and we do regret both of them." Hotch stated clearly and he wondered how many more times he would have to repeat himself.

"Thank you, Agent Hotchner, I believe that you have made the situation very clear. Would you wait outside while the Board discusses the issues raised by this matter," Ecclestone said in an even tone.

Hotch walked out of the room and waited in the anteroom. He walked over to the window and stared across the complex. Hotch thought that it was rather odd that Ecclestone had mentioned the wider complaint that Strauss had written in her request for the internal inquiry into his recent actions. Hotchner knew that there was more going on and the Bureau's politics were very active at the moment with the speculation about the financial cuts. He looked at the table and saw a copy of the Washington Post and decided to read the newspaper to take his mind off the wait.

The Board was quiet at first, waiting for Ecclestone to finish writing some comment on the report sheet. He looked up and smiled pleasantly, "Well gentleman, I don't feel that Agent Hotchner has a case to answer. In his original reports on both the Frank Breitkopf cases he was very honest about the actions he took and clearly stated why he took his decisions…in fact he repeated his reasoning here this morning. However, although Section Chief Erin Strauss feels Agent Hotchner has a case to answer,I repeat, there is none in my mind. The recent Flagstaff case was unfortunate and the events could not have been predicted. We are all saddened by the deaths of the murdered students and the two murderers. Do you all agree?"

"This was political," Wallace said first, "How has Hotchner crossed her?"

"He hasn't crossed her, he's just been successful in his work and she sees him as a threat," said Hamilton and the men were all silent with their own thoughts for a few moments.

"The subsequent data that was gathered, and the analysis of the security tapes, all support the actions the BAU took with the limited information they had at the time. When the distorted speech is adjusted you can make out Begley's conversation and she wanted Tubbs to kill her, he just wasn't playing especially as he knew there was a camera watching...remember he kept turning towards that camera. Tubbs knew he was being watched once he was released but Begley hadn't a clue…" The previously quiet Dubcek said.

"We can't let Strauss get away with this, Hotch is too good an Agent to lose and keeps that team in control. Can you imagine them without someone like Hotch with his legal mind…then I could see problems arising but this is a trumped up charge…Strauss wanted to pressure him," said Wallace.

"So we are all in agreement that Hotchner is innocent of the complaint stated by Strauss."

"Yes," the four men said emphatically and Ecclestone smiled.

"Oh good because that's what I've written and I will have Ida write up our conclusions. Shall we call him in?" said Ecclestone.

"What about Strauss, she can't just make complaints against people she doesn't like?" Dubcek suddenly spoke up, "I know that my expertise was specifically called upon but Agent Strauss made this complaint before she had considered all the facts. The suspension of Hotchner had even reached the New York Office and added to the disquiet agents are already feeling over the rumoured cuts."

"Oh leave the Director to take care of that, he has his own thoughts on this matter but I think the financial cuts will keep Erin Strauss far too busy to start politically plotting her advancement. Besides, the decision goes against Strauss and weakens her in the sight of her peers and other agents here. Now Alex, would you mind…"

Alex Thorpe went to the door to call the Agent back.

"Agent Hotchner, the Board is in unanimous agreement that these charges are totally unfounded and you are reinstated and your pay restored. I am to escort you to see the Director now and my fellow Board members are bound by the usual code of silence in these matters until the decision is published which will be late this afternoon. Thank you gentleman," Ecclestone said conversationally and Wallace was the first member to approach Hotch to shake his hand.

"Sorry you were put through that but we have to follow through once a section head suspends…"

Hotch shook the hand firmly to show that there were no hard feelings, "Just following procedure, you all were, but thank you gentlemen," he said and each of the Board members shook his hand before they left.

Hotchner turned to Ecclestone, "You're to take me to see the Director?" he asked intrigued, as this was very unusual.

"Those are my orders, don't worry the top brass know what Strauss has been up to and they have their own plans for her. Let's go, the Director's lunches are usually delicious even if the talk is often serious."

Hotch followed the older man to a private elevator that went to the Director's suite of rooms. He was lead into a room he had never been to before, but it was laid out for lunch and there was a long counter along the side that contained a display of dishes to tempt the diners. There were jugs of water and several fruit juices placed on the plain light oak rectangular dining table but he noted that there was no indication of alcohol. Hotch was alert and knew that this was something major, and he must be careful to keep his wits about him because a working lunch with the Director was not to be taken lightly.

"Ah, good," said a familiar voice and he turned to see Max enter behind him, "Oliver you took your time," he stated but the manner was good humoured between the two men.

"I wanted it to be seen that we were taking the inquiry seriously," Ecclestone said.

"Made you feel you were justifying you actions then?" Max asked Hotch but his eyes were twinkling and warm.

"I was not going to back down on any decision I had taken," Hotch said firmly.

"Of course not," said the Director from behind him, "But we had to follow procedure as it is laid down but lets try and relax gentlemen. Hotch, I have every confidence in you which is why you are here for a working lunch. Is Reardon still on the 'copter?"

"Just landed, sir," said the Director's personal secretary who was known to everyone as Ida and was always immaculate in her tailored suits and her straight hair had been cut in its pageboy style for as long as she had worked at the Bureau. She was easily in her mid-fifties and the once ash blond hair was now a soft silvery grey, the colour of her eyes. She had the elegance of old southern manners and its effect was that everyone treated Ida with old-fashioned courtesy. But she was also known for being the model secretary who saw much and said nothing because discretion was second nature to her and it was obvious to Hotch that these men totally trusted her.

Reardon appeared on the threshold and greeted everyone, "Sorry, have I held up proceedings?"

"No, we were going to start without you," Ecclestone quipped.

"Only because Oliver likes his treacle tart," Max added and Hotch began to relax realising that these were people who felt comfortable with one another and he was being included into an inner circle.

"Now, Hotch, the rule is, Ida always chooses her main course first. I sit at the head of the table but then after Ida has chosen her place the rest of you just sit at the table where you like." The Director smiled, "We have to discuss the cuts, but nothing said over lunches here are ever repeated outside my suite," he said seriously and watched Ida fill her plate with steak and kidney pie, potatoes and carrots. "She always tells us that she has never had to diet…" he added wistfully.

Ida looked up, "Well, I guess I'm fortunate, but my daughters are just the same, it's that husband of mine that I have to watch."

Hotch smiled and Max indicated for Hotch to go in front of him along the counter of food. He filled his plated with the delicious looking moussaka and added a few green beans. He found himself being invited to sit to the left of the Director and Max sat beside Hotch. They faced Ecclestone who was opposite Hotch and alongside Reardon. Ida had placed herself next to Max and was busily eating before it got cold. Hotch filled a glass with orange juice and kept wondering why he was part of this unusual meeting.

The Director began to speak when everyone was settled eating.

"Now we have all the provisional plans for the running of the different sections. I have had it confirmed that the financial allocation is as we feared so we will be freezing all recruitment, those already past their retirement age will be assessed on a 'are they effective' basis. You're all right Oliver…we need you!"

Oliver chuckled into his steak and kidney pie.

"Max I will need you to review the recommendations for retirement that Divisional Heads will suggest, some may want to take retirement but we may need them if they are very good at their work and we cannot easily re-deploy into their posts. In those cases we may have to be charming and persuasive to get them to stay a little longer…Most departments are facing cuts of some kind, posts remaining unfilled or even cut, especially with the civilian support staff… That's what we are going to look at this time….

Hotch sat and participated, using his knowledge of the various areas he had worked in over the years and he was amazed how he was accepted as an equal by everyone around the table as they went through the provisional plans submitted by each division. It was obvious that Strauss's division was being left to the very end. By that time they were onto the coffee and had moved into the comfortable easy chairs of the Director's spacious office. Ida kept every one's cups full and also prevented any interruptions.

"Now Strauss wants to have you moved from her department because in her plans for the BAU unit your job is considered redundant." The Director cheerfully announced but it didn't surprise Hotch because of her recent behaviour. "Don't worry I have other plans for you…Now she wants to moth ball the jet, have Gideon sitting in his office grounded but in charge of any major case but instead of sending out the team she wants to go back to more of the original unit."

"You mean sending agents out on their own to liase with a police department and only use commercial flights?" asked Hotch to clarify the situation.

"Yes, but she thinks that Gideon should have the team sit down in the conference room at the start of a case and discuss it to pool their ideas and then Gideon is to pick the agent he thinks will be the best one to go to the actual scene. The agent who is out in the field can call on the expertise of his fellow agents' back at the base but Gideon is in the 'consult' position and can advise the field agent any time. What do you think?" the Director asked Hotch and the other men were alert for his reply.

"The main problem is that the BAU has worked as a team for a long time now. They fire ideas off one another and they have not the experience to run a case in the field on their own like in the old days when the unit was first set up. If they have Gideon at the end of a phone to encourage and share ideas with it might work for a while but I suspect that Gideon will not like being totally office bound. He does like to get the feel of a crime scene, actually we all do because it helps us think ourselves in to the Unsubs shoes…" Hotch thought a few moments while talking a sip of his coffee.

"I don't think its going to be that successful but I suppose it's better than nothing. But I suspect that if a police department has used us as a team before and then get just a sole field agent to help them, they will be disappointed and will measure that agent against the success of the team…" Hotch finished evenly.

"How do you think each agent would cope on their own?" Max asked.

"Morgan is good at certain things, he's not an all rounder. Prentiss is still learning the 'profiling' techniques for the unit…that doesn't mean that she's not capable, just inexperienced. Then there's Reid, he's the youngest but he's the natural profiler and would probably be the most successful but he still needs more experience in some areas. I think it puts far more stress on the individual agent, whereas at the moment we all share the stresses of a case. To work a case on your own is a lot of pressure and the sort of cases we deal with …I can see people leaving or burning out quicker," Hotch finished and hoped that this scenario was not going to be put into action.

"Yes, that was Max's view too but that's the way Strauss wants to play it. I think I am going to let her have her way at first…Given enough rope and she will hang herself," the Director said softly.

"But what about the good agents in the BAU while she's destroying her career?" asked Hotch defensively thinking of the conscientious team he had around him.

"Hotch, she wants to get rid of you, I don't want that because I believe you have been highly successful as the Unit Chief for the BAU…you do enjoy the work don't you?"

"Strangely…yes," he conceded.

"Then the BAU must tighten its safety belts and hang on while its Chief works on improving things…" the Director said carefully.

"Which means what?" asked the suspicious Agent.

"I want to appoint you to work with Oliver and be part of a five man team which is going to be based in Washington. The 'Director's Special Team' is going to gather the data from departments around the country to show the detrimental effects of the financial cuts inflicted by government upon us. You are specifically being based at the Washington office so you are in the best position to lobby our case both amongst senators and congressmen. Your profiling abilities can be put to use amongst them…" the Director said with a twinkle in his eyes. "I'm sure that you will target the most suitable to approach, the ones who are weakening under pressure from complaints from their states about how the cuts are affecting the very people who elect them. Your legal mind will be very useful as so many of these people have legal backgrounds, but above all it is your very experience that will enable you to speak knowledgeably about the effects of the cuts. We know the BAU is going to get criticised, the sooner the better…Don't worry, Strauss has definitely bitten off more than she can chew and Max will keep an eye on the profilers so they don't burn out although I am sure they will get stressed."

"How long do you think this will take to have some effect?" Hotch asked.

"Depends on what happens…We only have to have hysteria over a mass murderer and questions will be asked as to why isn't the team being used any more. We can truthfully answer because of the cuts. We'll get the funding because it will be just the tip of the iceberg of complaints. But remember, the BAU under you has had some famous successes and if Gideon has had his wings clipped by being confined to base…Just think of the news broadcasts and the newspapers asking awkward questions! They may even want to talk to you and you will be in the best position to answer those searching questions won't you?"

"Of course, sir," replied Hotch and knew that this wasn't going to be a smooth ride but eventually sanity would be restored.

"Why not think of this as an interregnum," the Director said pleasantly, "I'm sure that you would like eventually to go back to heading the BAU?"

"Would you let me?"

"If that is what you want, then yes, We all know in this room how successful the BAU has been under your leadership, I repeat, it is an interregnum."

Hotch nodded but there was still a nagging doubt.

"What's wrong Hotch?" asked Max, "Speak your mind that is what this meeting is all about."

"Do you think Gideon is strong enough to cope with this at the present time?"

Max understood and looked at Hotch with compassion, "Gideon is still grieving over the loss of Sarah but he insisted on returning to work to help focus his mind onto something useful. Reid has been trying to keep some contact with him outside work and I know that there have been several chess games and dinners together after work. Reid will keep an eye on him."

"But what if Gideon doesn't want to be grounded?" Hotch asked because he felt that with Gideon's present mood he may just decide to resign rather than go along with Strauss's plans for the unit.

"Strauss had the arrogance to say that she thought the team were held back by both you and Gideon," Reardon added, "If Gideon goes then she will just have to cope because there is going to be a recruitment freeze."

"But she might think that Reid could cope…" suggested Hotch worried that Reid would find too much on his shoulders too soon.

"If Gideon goes, then we will protect Reid, we could second him elsewhere…New York have asked for him because they have people being retired and Seattle," said Reardon.

"I'm not sure he'd go that far…Jo was attacked in New York and still doesn't feel comfortable there and Seattle seems very far away from her family…I think he would consider Jo in his plans," warned Hotch.

"We'll cross that bridge if, or when, we come to it," the Director said confidently, "You really don't think that we'd want to lose the genius…Max here would give me a very hard time," the Director soothed.

Max smiled and Hotch hoped that Spencer would be all right during the coming financial tempest but he would just have to trust Max to keep Spencer under his wing.

"Now this is how we are going to manage this change, you will not be going back to work at the BAU. We will announce late tomorrow that you have been appointed to the Director's Special Team to fight the cuts and are going to Washington to work with Oliver…"

At 4:30 p.m. that afternoon, Barry came into the bull pen and mounted the steps and from the upper level called for every ones attention,

"Listen up people!" he began and the area gave him their complete attention, "The inquiry Board that met to review the actions of decisions made by Agent Hotchner and Agent Gideon in Flagstaff, Arizona, have issued this adjudication…

'Unit Chief, Aaron Hotchner has been found to have acted in a thoughtful and sensible manner and that the suspension of the said Agent Hotchner is not upheld, and he is re-instated in his position and his pay restored. Likewise the suspension of senior profiler, Agent Jason Gideon, is found to be without cause and he is reinstated.' They have also given him the rest of the week as personal leave," Barry stopped as there was spontaneous whoops and applause and waited for it to die down before continuing. "Our Unit Chief is expected to be at his desk again tomorrow…so if I were you, team, I would make sure that you have all my profile requests finished by then…"

"Slave driver!" called Morgan from below.

"Keep it down…he might find us some more…" cautioned Emily. But the good humour continued for the rest of the shift and the team did finish their quota of requests.

Spencer went and grabbed a quick meal at the staff cafeteria on the first floor and then returned to the BAU to wait for Gideon to come and a celebratory game of chess. He set up the chess set in Gideon's office and sat back at his own desk and did a few more profile requests that had been placed in Barry's pending tray. He had finished those by 9:30 but Gideon had still not arrived. Spencer tried calling his cell but he only got the answer service so he went to wait in Gideon's office and finally fell asleep.

It was J.J. who found him the next morning at 7:15, sprawled in an easy chair in Gideon's office, the chess set untouched. She told him that they had another case and calls had been made to gather the team but an incomplete team met in the conference room. Both Hotch and Gideon were missing and Emily was late and complained about the Washington traffic on the Beltway when she did arrive. They discussed together the case that the Milwaukee police had asked for help over and it was one that was particularly gruesome. Mothers of school age children were disappearing during the afternoon and two days later were found dead with their hearts cut out and dumped not far from where they had been abducted in the city.

"You've called Gideon?" Morgan asked Reid for the fourth time since he'd arrived for the briefing.

"He's not answering, I told you we were supposed to have a chess game in his office last night but he didn't show and he wasn't answering his cell then."

"When did you last see him?" asked Emily who was concerned for the senior profiler who had been looking very tired recently.

"Yesterday morning, I was watching the main building and saw him leave so I caught up with him to ask how the hearing went."

"But he was cleared…I don't understand…" said Emily.

"Yeah, he told me that. He just said that he had a few things to do and he'd see me later last night…that's why I fell asleep here waiting for him."

Barry suddenly appeared and they looked up.

"Message from Hotch, "He has been called to a meeting with the Director and you are to go with Gideon…Where's Gideon?"

"We don't know, he's not answering his cell," said Reid and Barry registered his concern.

"OK," said Barry carefully, " I'll see what I can find out but he was given the rest of the week as personal leave by the Board yesterday and he may have chosen to use the extra days out of state. Anyway, the plane is waiting for you…"

But suddenly Erin Strauss strode in, "I understand that Hotch and Gideon are not here so I'll be leading this case, shall we get going…" she tersely said and turned and left a stunned depleted team still sitting at the round table."

Barry took control of them, "People, the lady isn't known for her patience especially if her orders are not followed…" he gently reminded them and the four agents pushed their chairs back and silently filed out with Jareau leading the way. Barry was pleased that he was no longer part of the away team but he wondered what was really happening for Strauss to suddenly turn up.

While the team flew to Milwaukee and gingerly worked alongside Strauss, Hotchner was meeting his fellow 'Director's Special Team' members and found, that like yesterday over lunch, that he was the youngest man in the room. Oliver Ecclestone introduced everyone but Hotch was relieved that the three other men were people he had come across before and they were people he had trusted and were utterly committed to the Bureau and all nearing or just past 60 years of age. There was Stefan Brunell who was the Assistant Head of the Miami office and just turned 60. His sun tanned skin seemed to draw attention to the brilliant white wispy remains of a once fine head of hair. Hotch still remembered the athletic handsome man who he had first met 15 years previously after he had joined the F.B.I. Brunell was now a grandfather and still looked fit for his age. Hotch realised that the Director had purposefully chosen people who had 'outstanding' service records. Brunell, like Hotch, was a career Agent and had served in several field offices and different departments during his career.

Philip Crosby was a giant Black American who had been a footballer in the minor league in Upstate New York and he was now 59. This man was still enormous and solidly built but it was sheer muscle even now. He was an expert in white-collar fraud and had joined them from the San Francisco office where he headed the team there. The Director had told Hotch that he had been persuaded to take this position before officially retiring, which had been his intention for his 60th birthday, in January. A widower, his retirement plans were to retire near his married son in Seattle so he could enjoy his grandchildren.

Eric Samuelson was a tiny man by comparison with everyone else; he was only 5 foot 7 inches and was slightly built with sharp features and had been caricatured in the Washington press a few years before as a ferret. Samuelson had doggedly pursued the killers of a group of poor Black boys and built up a case with forensic evidence that lead to the conviction of a group of, by comparison, privileged White teenagers in Tennessee. It had been such a notoriously prickly incident that the case had been moved out of state to Kansas because of the mob reaction to the original crime. He was now 63 years old but he looked younger, the once blond hair, that had hinted at Nordic ancestry, was now a dirty white receding mop which was as unruly now as it had been when younger. It reminded Hotch of Reid's hair, a little too long for his own liking, but Samuelson swept his long hair straight back and it emphasised the high forehead and long thin pointed nose and pointed chin. He had come to join them from the Wisconsin office where he had been the Assistant Head of Scientific Services for the Great Lakes region. He too would have been considered for retirement with the present cuts but his expertise would be needed to evaluate the effects of the financial cuts on the civilian scientific services throughout the Bureau.

The Director's Special Team sat down to discuss the areas of concern between themselves so they each knew where they fitted into the overall scheme of things. Hotchner was accepted as an equal despite his obvious lack of seniority but Oliver Ecclestone had assured him that this could only enhance his career status and he was chosen for his experience and abilities like everyone else. By 9:30 they were all comfortably using first names and Oliver told them that their suite of offices would be ready for them from the coming Monday at the Washington Office and that was where they were next to meet up and settle themselves in. At 11 a.m. Hotch went back to the BAU and began to clear his office behind a closed door with the blinds down. Everyone sensed that this was a 'do not disturb' time and they wondered just what was going on but Barry quietly kept people working and away from the firmly shut door.

It did not take long before the Milwaukee Chief of Police and the Mayor were both complaining to the Director about the arrogant manner of Erin Strauss. She had only been there a few hours before feathers were ruffled and the local police department was not happy with the BAU team leader. Morgan had tried calling Hotch on his cell but Hotch refused to take the calls as he was not going to interfere with the investigation unless ordered and he believed that would only be a matter of time. The phone call came from the Director at 6:30 the next morning and Hotch was on the Director's jet 40 minutes later heading towards Milwaukee. The Director also said that Strauss didn't know the composition of the Director's Special Team and the details would be delayed until after the case but he had permission to tell the team, in confidence, on the way home. Meanwhile, Strauss was longing to get back to Quantico and the admin work that was piling up over the strategy for coping with the cuts but she didn't want to appear weak in front of Hotchner or the team.

The arrival of Hotch was met with relief by all the team and he immediately steadied the group who had been on edge with Strauss. They had just heard that the body of the latest victim had been found and as they made their way to the scene, he spoke quietly to Reid and listened to his concerns about Gideon.

"Don't worry, I've known him to act like this before when under stress. We do forget things when distressed and he is still grieving for Sarah. Reid, I need your total concentration on this case," Hotch said intensely just for his hearing. "He's probably just gone to his cabin and turned his cell off deliberately or he may have decided at the last minute to visit old friends with the extra 'free' days the Board gave him." Hotch tried to re-assure the young agent.

Spencer nodded but there was a nagging doubt at the back of his mind that he shut off to give his full attention to the case. Before Strauss returned to Quantico, she insisted on going with the team to see the newly found body of Claire Thompson that had turned up like the other victims after 48 hours minus her heart. Seeing the body at the dump site had brought home the reality of the job to Erin Strauss but Hotch, ever the natural leader, gave her the time to regain her composure before she escaped to take the Director's jet back to Virginia.

It was Reid who turned the case round to the right direction and suggested the opposite of the profile of the child being used for bait. Originally they had been looking for a problem child but then Reid had remembered how he had made sure that he was the perfect pupil for his teachers. He had been eager to participate in extra work in order that no one would start to dig further into the problems he was having with his sick mother. Reid had an absent father and the last thing that he wanted was to be taken away and put into foster care. The change in profile quickly pointed to David Smith and then the case moved swiftly to the Smith home and the rescue of the most recent victim, the school nurse, although Emily did get slightly hurt. The aftermath for the team was their concern for David Smith and the long-term damage inflicted by being the bait for his sick father's insane murders. The team universally hated cases where children were involved.

On the way home, Hotch and Reid sat apart from the others doing their reports and after these were finished Hotch called the group together.

"I want you all to know that it will be announced tomorrow that I have been appointed to the Director's Special Team to assess the effects of the financial settlement upon the FBI. I will be based in Washington in order to be able to lobby the government. I believe that this is going to be the last case the 'away' team works, and that this jet is going to be moth balled." Hotch said quietly watching the serious faces and the looks of vulnerability about their own positions.

"Who's going to lead us?" Morgan asked hoping that it was not going to be Strauss again because the recent brief experience was more that enough for him.

"I don't now what has been finally decided by Strauss but I was told that the idea being considered was that Gideon would act as the senior consultant and you would be called together as a team to discuss a case. Then Gideon would choose the profiler he thought would be most appropriate and that agent would be sent to liase with the local police and everyone else would be available for consult if needed…but Gideon would have the overall say in things."

"And we'd have to use public transport…boy that's going to add to the time factor," said Prentiss.

"But they're going to keep us together?" Jareau asked.

"That was the thinking yesterday but recruitment is being frozen and the personnel cuts are going to hit those of retirement age and the civilian support workers," Hotch said softly but he noted how subdued and silent Reid seemed and suspected that he was still worried about Gideon.

"Hey, we ought to take Vicki Melrose for a goodbye drink…she's been a good pilot over the past few years," Jareau suggested and thought that would raise some spirits.

"Nice idea J.J. but I've got to get home because I had told Hayley that I wouldn't be doing another case and then the Director intervened."

"I'm in!" said Prentiss with a grin and Morgan added his voice of assent.

"Sorry I've got to get back," said Reid, "But I'll go and have a few words with her now…Has she been told about the jet?" he asked Hotch.

"I don't know, I'd just keep it to the grounding of the team and see how she responds," suggested Hotch.

"I'll come with you," said J.J.

Vicki had been told already that this was her last assignment with the team but she was still going to be employed within the FBI at Quantico but covering other flights so she just pleased to have the employment.

After speaking with Vicki, Spencer went and sat on his own and Hotch went to sit with him after speaking to Morgan. Hotchner then spoke in a low voice so he would not be overheard.

"I wanted to say that we are all going to be affected by these cuts but just try to do the best you can with the situation. Max will be keeping an eye on you but you are a very good profiler, Spencer, so hold on until we manage to get the extra funding. The Director has promised that I can return if I want when I've managed that…Just think of it as an interregnum. I'm only in Washington and I've never met Jo so when things have got into a routine I would like to ask you and Jo over for a meal at my home…I've not asked the others…"

"Thank you, I'm sure Jo would love that and to meet Hayley and Jack…Jo has a niece and nephew who we spoil…" he replied with a smile and felt honoured that Hotch would invite him into his home.

"Ah, there's J.J., I want to have a word, remember…it's just an interregnum," he repeated softly.

"Good luck," Spencer said as he rose and Hotch turned back and gave him a rare open smile, "Thank you, it will be a little different to what I've been doing."

"Oh, I don't know…the madness of politics?" suggested Spencer with a grin and actually didn't envy his role on the Director's Special Team.

Spencer turned his old Volvo into the narrow road that lead up to the cabin. He had not rung Jo to say he was back but he had needed to come out here to settle his own mind. He was concerned about the level of depression that Gideon was suffering although it was understandable but the Flagstaff case had upset him deeply. Reid had sensed the distress of the older man and thought he had witnessed the odd moment of Gideon's mask slipping when he thought he was alone. The student victims had all been brunettes just like Sarah had been and he had witnessed the look of horror as Gideon first saw the crime scene photographs. Normally Gideon would not have expressed any reaction to such things other than the clear thinking comments of the experienced profiler. However, this time Spencer had noticed Gideon flinch and had seen the haunted look of a person who had seen too many distressing scenes. Spencer sensed that the man was unravelling but then Gideon had suddenly regained control again and was totally committed once more giving his all to the case in hand.

Spencer pulled up outside the utterly dark and uninviting cabin. He didn't like the dark, there were too many childhood memories of a mother who had shut him in the basement…He shut his mind to the thoughts and pulled himself together. He was an adult and Gideon's friend and he now silently prayed to a God he wasn't sure existed. Spencer got out of the car; the night was chilly and full of the noises of the forest that only intensified Spencer's unease. The car's headlamps were trained on the porch and the door and shadows seemed to mock Spencer's disquiet, the cabin was too quiet and forlorn. He prayed he'd not find Gideon's body. He had been worried about that scenario all the way up here…

Reid pulled the thick brown cable knit cardigan around his thin body, it was warm and Jo referred to it as his comfort blanket as he tended to wear it in times of insecurity. He had been given a key five years ago and Gideon had insisted that he kept it. There had been times over the intervening years when he had come at different times of the seasons just to walk in the forest. It all seemed a long time ago now and those visits had been before Hankel. Spencer had not brought Jo here perhaps because it was too far into the forest.

Spencer had the flashlight he kept in the car's dashboard but he still felt scared as he stepped on to the porch and looked around him. The car was clearly visible as he had also left the vehicle's courtesy light on but the area around it stared darkly back threatening him. Spencer rapped on the door but he could hear no movement from inside. He reached for his key in his pocket and placed it in the lock, but it was not needed, the cabin's door had been left unlocked and that alarmed Spencer even more as to what he was going to find inside.

He tentatively opened the door a little and called out, "Gideon!" but the sounds of the oppressive dark surrounding forest answered him. Spencer's heart throbbed and he felt his senses stretched and all on edge as he pushed the door further open and stepped across the threshold.

The light from the headlamps and his own flashlight illuminated the entrance and his initial impressions, as he swept his light around, were that the place had been cleared out of personal belongings. There were no books on the shelves, no art on the walls, no old records neatly stowed in and on the small cupboard where once sat the old record player. The circular table was still in place and four dining chairs, and there was a reading lamp placed on the table…it was all carefully set up, he had been expected.

Reid touched the lamp's switch and the room was filled with its light and he could see that his initial room scan with the flashlight had been correct…. There on the table were Gideon's gun, identity badge and two envelopes, one addressed to the Director and the other with "SPENCER" written boldly in Gideon's hand. He sat down at the table and tore open the envelope.

"I knew it would be you who came to the cabin to check on me. You must be frightened, I apologise for that, I never meant to cause you any pain and I also never envisioned writing this letter. I've searched for a satisfactory explanation for what I'm doing. All I've come up with is a profiler needs to have a solid footing; I don't think I do anymore. The work confuses me, the cruelty, the indifference, the tragedy…."

And Gideon's words told Spencer how difficult it had been for the senior profiler to work the Flagstaff case while he was grieving for Sarah. It told how the work had destroyed his ability to see the goodness in the world and to question his abilities to do the work.

"How many times have I told you that a profiler cannot do the job if his mind is unfocused, if anything is going on in your personal life that could cloud your judgement. My mind has never been more unfocused than it was on that campus…….

I used to understand my place, my direction, where I was headed. Profiling requires belief, belief in the profile and belief in yourself. After Sarah, I no longer trust myself at home but after Tubbs, I no longer trust myself in the field. Without that I have nothing. Hotch having to give Strauss his badge…that was the last domino…Hotch being suspended over something that was my fault…"

Spencer sat back in the chair and felt a mixture of anger and sadness that Gideon had not been able to talk to him and say goodbye to his face. But at least he had tried to put it in a letter even if it was at times bordering a confused ramble. However, what had happened here was what all profilers dreaded; the job finally breaking you.

Spencer reached into his trouser pocket and got out his cell, he quickly found the saved number and waited for the voice to answer.

"Spencer, are you all right?" the quiet but solicitous voice of Max came out of the tiny speaker.

"Yeah, I'm at Gideon's cabin…He's gone, just left a letter for the Director, his gun and badge. He left me a rambling letter too…"

"Are you on your own?" asked the concerned Max.

"Yeah, I thought…I needed to know he was all right, I was expected." Spencer replied with a flat voice and Max could hear the undercurrent of pain in the controlled speech.

"It was very brave of you to go on your own," said Max remembering that he had revealed at the Clinic the reasons for not liking the dark. "Does he sound suicidal?" he asked as gently as possible.

"No, just drained…you know the job has just taken too much from him but he doesn't sound as if he will take his own life…I think he just wanted out so he can find some light once more to break through the dark that has taken over…"

Max nodded thoughtfully to himself. Don too didn't think that Gideon had been suicidal when he had last spoken to him before the Board had met.

"Spencer, I will try to find out where he has gone and I will let you know but I think he was right to realise that the job had become too much. Spencer, you are not Gideon, and I've told you before…I will tell you if I think the work as a profiler is destroying you…remember?"

"Yes, " Spencer said and felt strangely comforted by the assurance that Max was once more repeating. Max was right, he was a different personality to Gideon and he had his own life to live.

"Spencer, you will need to take the gun, badge and letter to the Director's office first thing tomorrow. I will tell his secretary to expect you. Ida is a nice lady and she will ask you to sign a document saying that you have brought the things in and then you will return to the BAU."

"Yes," he said dully and felt very tired. He just wanted to get back home.

"Now, you had better get home to your Jo she will be concerned," Max said gently and thankful that Jo would be there for him.

"Yeah, thanks Max, I'd better lock up here, goodnight," he said in a more confident voice but he felt drained by the whole experience.

"Goodnight Spencer and a safe journey," the psychologist said and then heard Spencer cut the connection.

Jo lay awake thinking, she knew the team was back because the case had been reported on the news earlier and they always flew back as soon as they could. He had rung her as they set out to Milwaukee and said Gideon had not turned up at the start of the case and she wondered if Spencer had gone to see him. After Sarah's death there had also been a change in the intensity of her relationship with Spencer. On the Sunday he had come home, after the Frank case had been wrapped up, and Spencer had opened up even more on an emotional level with her. It was as if the death of Gideon's friend had opened another door into the very private Spencer Reid and she glimpsed more of the intensely sensitive man and more of the vulnerability that went hand in hand with that hidden side.

Jo had felt that there had always been an intuitive sensitivity between the two of them but Spencer had tried to explain it away as being the unconscious consequence of Craig and Melinda preparing the ground for their eventual meeting. But gradually Spencer had been talking a little more about his work and along with that came his desire to be touched more frequently. He would hold her close more when he got home after a case and she felt him relax under her touch. Sometimes he would put his head on her breast and she would stroke his soft curling hair and she would hear him sigh with pleasure. Jo likened it in her own mind to a cat purring and smiled to her self at the image. He was a long, skinny cat but he was relaxing more to her physical presence and he had recently let her use massage on him. Before her hand was damaged she had learnt the art of aromatherapy and had recently tried this with Spencer who had always accepted the colder touch of her left hand. This sensuality of touch and scented oils had become a regular part of their lovemaking over the past few weeks and he had reciprocated eagerly exploring another dimension of passion.

She heard the apartment door close, the bedroom door opened a few minutes later and she instantly sensed his tension.

"Are you all right?" she asked tentatively, but he had his back to her away from the small bedside lamp that was illuminating the room and she couldn't see his face.

"Yeah, I was worried about Gideon so I went out to his cabin. He's gone, I've got his letter of resignation and things to hand in tomorrow," he said without any emotion and Jo was alert knowing that he was too tightly controlled. Spencer was discarding his clothes still with his back to her.

"I need a quick shower," he tersely said and he walked out to the bathroom.

Jo got out of bed to pick up the clothes and placed them all in the linen basket as things to be washed. She stood by the basket thinking about the resignation of Gideon and all Spencer had said about the rumoured cuts and wondered if Gideon had been pushed into it to save money. She heard the shower being turned off and thought about how she was going to handle this situation. Spencer was fond of Gideon despite all the misunderstandings that had arisen over Spencer's return but they had seemed to be on a more mature level of understanding now…

Hands reached round her from the back and a familiar bony body pressed against her.

"I was scared but I had to go despite the dark," he whispered, one hand still holding her round her waist while the other slide upwards to rest on her left breast and she leaned even further into him with the pleasure of his touch. "He left me a letter where he tried to explain things but he was burning out just like we thought."

"I'm sorry he couldn't say goodbye to your face," she said and felt him squeeze her to him a little and groan into her neck.

"He was hurting too much, Jo, it's what this job can do...it can sometimes bleed us dry and I don't want that to happen to me," he confessed in a whisper as if even speaking about it was throwing down a gauntlet to the fates.

Jo understood and turned to face him.

" Well, while we're together, you have something that is far stronger than the job to come home to. I won't bleed you dry, I'm here to replenish your belief in normality…" she said hugging him as Spencer wrapped his long thin arms around her.

"I love you, " he whispered and she felt that his cheek was wet and reached up with her finger to wipe away a tear.

"You'd better, I've never been the one-night stand type…Life is too precious to throw it away on such a trashy existence."

"Yeah," he managed as his hormone levels soared and his mind was filled with the over riding desire for this woman. He wasn't satisfied by one-night stands either and he couldn't have existed like the pre- Angela Morgan. But then the analysing stopped and he gave in to the passion he loved to feel with Jo who he trusted to save him from the job.

Jo smiled as he was tugging at her nightdress and she pushed him playfully away to lift it over her head. Jo was determined to give this man the pleasure he deserved and the stability that he needed to do the work. The payback was worth it, an intelligent, trustworthy and sensitive man who was not jealous of her own talents and encouraged her career just as long as she was there for him when needed. The job was demanding when it came to the hours but she had never met anyone like him and had never felt this depth of desire either….

Spencer had needed the healing power of their love making when he had returned home and again before he left for work. Jo enjoyed the closeness and would not have denied him because she sensed his need for re-assurance in the strength of their relationship. They had talked over breakfast about what Hotch had said were the proposed plans for the BAU but Gideon's departure would obviously change all of that. Spencer was understandably tense about the future with both Hotch and Gideon disappearing off the scene at a time of uncertainty for the Bureau but Jo tried to be supportive before he left. When she got into the office she went and talked to her aunt and uncle about the uncertainties surrounding Spencer's work. Fortunately, that Friday was not filled with appointments for Jeff and Marilyn Bevan and they sat with their talented niece listening to her concerns about the future.

Spencer had followed Max's orders and met the pleasant and efficient Ida before going to the BAU. Most of the agents were already at their desks and as soon as he walked through the door Paressi had told him that there was to be an announcement soon about the cuts.

"Hey man you all right?" Morgan asked as Reid sat down at his desk feeling uneasy about even being there.

"Yeah, Gideon's gone," he said softly but with those brief words Prentiss, Jareau and Morgan suddenly moved over to his desk.

"What happened?" Morgan asked and Reid kept his voice low and explained the previous evening.

"Jeez…You went up there on your own…" Morgan stopped and realised that Reid had probably driven to the cabin thinking that he'd find his mentor dead.

"Perhaps he knew that Hotch was being re-assigned and didn't want the pressure anymore," Morgan reasoned for the younger agent.

Reid didn't say anything, keeping his thoughts to himself. Perhaps he should have rung Hotch but he suspected that Max would do that. He felt a creeping numbness inside as if the world he had once felt comfortable with was about to collapse around him. It was a shock for Hotch to be moved but for Gideon to go aswell was a double blow. Then Reid felt ashamed of himself for being so weak. Hotch had told him it was an interregnum so it was for them to hold on tight until they were all together again. But he also knew he was still upset that Gideon had not said 'goodbye' to his face, even when his father had left he had said 'goodbye' to him. Barry approached on his way to the steps and stopped beside Spencer and suddenly squeezed his shoulder and whispered,

"He'll be all right, Gideon has a strong sense of self preservation that's why he left while he still knew he could cope with life. He'll be in touch once he has found his stability again."

Reid nodded and remembered the period after the Boston bombings and how Gideon had eventually come back to teach and then to rejoin the team. But he was grateful for Barry's touch; their comradeship went back to his first days at the BAU. Then Barry continued up the steps to the upper level because he had the anticipated announcement to make.

"OK People, listen up!" Barry began, " We have just been informed that the financial settlement is as bad as we feared. All recruitment is frozen, many operatives past retirement age will go and their posts may remain unfilled or present personnel re-deployed to cover vital positions. It is confirmed that Aaron Hotchner is now a member of the Director's Special Team based in Washington to fight the cuts. I also heard this morning that Gideon has resigned and will not be returning even to teach. The away team is grounded, the jet is moth balled, and special cases will be considered on the need to send an agent on their own to liase with the police department who has requested specific help. Due to Gideon's resignation I don't know who will be put in as the lead consult and I guess there will be some meetings going on as I speak. Let me remind you all, any of us, I repeat any of us…and that could mean me too… could be re-deployed to another department or field office. I understand that any re-deployment will be handled by Charles Reardon and personnel will be contacted personally to go to his office sometime today."

The assembled BAU personnel were stunned by the announcement, the upheaval was beginning and no one felt safe as they huddled in small groups with friends to discuss their prospects.

"Oh Great! I don't want to be sent too far away, I've a nice place and then there's Angela, she's got a good job here…" said Morgan.

"Well it took me long enough to get a transfer to Quantico and out of the Mid West," said Prentiss quietly, "And I've a good relationship with George."

Garcia was quiet and worried. Her position was weak after her appearance before the Disciplinary Board, but she'd be grateful if she still had a job at the end of the day.

J.J. was quiet, she was still reeling from Hotch's statement on the plane last night and now Gideon was gone as well. She looked at the quiet thoughtful Reid, his eyes seemed large and reflected the vulnerability of them all but he had been silent since telling them about going to the cabin. Jareau felt an urge to hug him but didn't think he'd like it but she hoped that his Jo had understood his sense of abandonment when he got home last night.

They all sat subdued at their desks but not really able to concentrate on the profiles Barry had handed out to try and keep some normality.

At 10 a.m. Reid's desk phone rang and his colleagues couldn't help stopping their work as they heard him say, "Yes, sir, right away sir."

He put the receiver down and Reid was frozen still for a moment, as if calming his own emotions, before pushing his chair back and looking up.

"Reardon?" Morgan asked and got a tight nod. Then they silently watched the youngest profiler head for the door because his colleagues didn't know what to say for the best.

The news of the call swiftly went round the bullpen, everyone was shocked and then speculation took hold of the room.

"Well perhaps the psych department want him…he has been doing all that training with them," said Anderson.

"Perhaps because of that training they want him as the lead profiler…" suggested Paressi.

"No," dismissed Morgan, "He's too young."

"Is he?" countered Prentiss, "It isn't about age but ability…" Prentiss watched Morgan and sensed he was uneasy at the thought of Reid holding the senior profiler position.

Morgan didn't say anything more but he would not take orders from the kid. He didn't even want to think about working under Reid who was 10 years younger than him. Morgan felt it would be unfair if the Bureau did that because he had worked more departments than Reid and had been in the Police before the Bureau.

"Come and sit down, Dr. Reid," said Charles Reardon who noticed how young the man appeared but he also knew that appearances could be deceiving.

"The Director wished me to thank you for going out to Gideon's cabin last night, it has not escaped the understanding of some of us that you must have thought the worst as you made your way there."

Spencer was unsure what to say but kept his face as neutral as possible and just nodded.

"As you know they will have to be some changes and some personnel re-deployed. There have been several field offices that have put in requests for your talents and we have thought about them carefully. We do not think that it would be fair to put you in the lead consult position now Gideon has left…in fact his move is most unexpected so that position is still being discussed as we speak. However, we do feel that you need more experience in the field and fortunately an ideal placement has occurred with the maternity leave of the deputy of another specialist unit. Such a position can give you the admin and leadership experiences to prepare you for a senior position later in your career. We are aware of your attachment for Virginia but we hope that your partner might like to go with you to support you in this secondment,"

Reid sighed with relief; a secondment didn't have the same permanent ring to it as re-deployment.

"Don't look so worried, Dr. Reid, we are hardly going to waste all the training we have put you through. On Monday you are to report to Dr. Katie Cole at the Crimes against Children Unit. She would appreciate it if you could be there by 10 a.m. but I understand that you have worked briefly with this unit before?"

"Yes sir," said Reid finally finding his voice as his mind raced over all the logistics of moving. It wasn't too far and Jo might be happy about joining him because it was close enough for her work in Washington.

"Dr Cole specifically asked for you as soon as she knew that Danielle was pregnant and with the rumoured cuts, Josh Kramer was hoping to get you for his unit…So you see you are much wanted by Maryland."

"Yes, sir," was all he could manage, it was true he did know people there and he did like Kramer.

"Now you can leave immediately, clear your locker and desk and go and discuss it all with Ms Petersen," Reardon smiled hoping that Max and his people had not misread their relationship.

"Yes, sir, Thank you, sir," he said wanting to be away as quickly as possible.

Spencer closed the door behind him and found Max waiting for him in the anteroom where the receptionist sat, acting as the gatekeeper for the Deputy Director.

"I'll help you clear your locker," said Max and they left together, Reid still feeling that he was trying to catch up with the world as it raced ahead of him.

"I suspect that you didn't want to be working with children…but Katie will look after you and you were her first choice. Maryland is close enough to be in contact. You will still send a copy of your group dynamics report to Arnie and we will continue to pull you in to help with psych evaluations…Maryland know all about that. They are facing severe cuts themselves in the psych department and Arthur is going to be there two days a week to help out."

Reid looked up and stopped filling the large sports bag with his spare clothing and toiletries and grinned.

"Arthur will be there twice a week?" he asked for confirmation.

"Yes, I'm sure the pair of you will wrangle a working lunch some time," replied Max with a smile thinking back to the time at the Clinic and how much Arthur loved his food.

"I'll walk you to your car before you get the cardboard box to empty your desk."

"Yeah, that will seem so final," Reid said and realised that he had never seriously thought how he would find himself leaving the BAU.

"Just think of it as a time to learn. Remember, it's just an interregnum," said Max with a smile as they walked to his old Volvo. "Spencer you have the personal numbers of several of the Mental Health department, we are there for you just like we were when you left the Clinic."

Reid shut the lid of the car boot, "Then there's a Christmas evening dinner at my home…I haven't forgotten and I look forward to being introduced to your lady."

Reid tried to feel positive but he had to explain all of this to Jo yet.

Max read his doubts, "I believe that she will go with you and I will try to found out what I can about Gideon so don't worry," Max said knowing that these were the two things that were dominating his thoughts at the moment. " He was last seen heading north through Pennsylvania, I suspect he's going to visit Stephen. Now go and get your box, don't linger because you have to see Jo…"

"Thanks Max," Spencer said softly and knew that he was fortunate to have the support of a man like Max Pentall in this organisation.

"Where are you being sent to?" Prentiss asked before Morgan as soon as she saw Spencer enter carrying the standard box for 'desk clearing'.

"Maryland, I'm being seconded to cover for maternity leave, I'll be working under Katie Cole," he said trying to sound upbeat about it.

"Jeez…Crimes against Children…that's tough," said Morgan who got a sharp look from Prentiss for his lack of encouragement for their younger colleague.

"It will be good experience and its only maternity cover. I liked Katie Cole when I worked with her that time…"

"Yeah, real alpha female…" said Morgan remembering her appearance in the conference room.

"She's an excellent profiler, I worked alongside her when she was here," said Barry who had come up to Reid's desk as he was just tipping the few things from the drawers into the box. "You'll learn a lot from her; it's a good career move," Barry added wanting to boost Reid's confidence knowing that he would be feeling insecure with all the things that had happened over the last few days.

"Anyway, I want to go and talk to Jo, you know, ask her to her face if she'll come with me," Reid said and his colleagues all understood. Then began the goodbyes and Reid felt overwhelmed by the number of people who came to wish him good luck. He knew that he and Anderson would keep in touch and Anderson quietly told him that as he lived in Maryland perhaps they'd be able to join his family for a meal sometime.

J.J. just hugged him and he went a little pink at her action, "We're going to miss you, Spence," she said and Reid saw her large eyes well up with tears.

"Hey, it's a secondment, right?" Reid added with more cheerfulness than he was actually feeling.

Then suddenly there was Garcia. These days she dressed more in sober suits but her blouses were always a riot of colour and today it was a swirl of gold, reds and sapphire blue. Her vermillion red shoes were a reminder to everyone that she was rarely seen in black or brown.

She threw her arms round him and squeezed, "I'm going to miss my Junior G man," she whispered, "We had better hear good things about you!" she added fiercely.

Spencer returned the hug to his fellow sensitive, "Keep your promise and be good around the computers…I'll be back," he said and smiled at her when she released him.

But Barry was the last person to go to him and the others naturally moved away.

Barry suddenly gave him a brief hug, and whispered, "Remember it's just an interregnum."

Reid nodded and he began to think that perhaps Barry knew more of the Bureau's long-term plans than he let on.

"Go on get out of here, go and tell Jo!" he said loudly and gave him a gentle push towards the door. Spencer Reid picked up his box, gave them a brief smile and was suddenly gone. Jareau and Garcia thought that they felt his warm and gentle presence leave the BAU bereft as soon as he passed through the doors. That feeling didn't go away and people kept glancing towards the empty desk.

Meanwhile, Max Pentall and the Director were having coffee together.

"My Special Team seem to have gelled well together…You were right, Hotch fits in well despite being the youngest in the group and it has totally wrong footed Strauss," the Director said sipping his black coffee.

"He's perfect, he has all the people skills to be effective with the lobbying and Oliver's organisational skills will keep everyone focused," Max said quietly thinking about the shock on Strauss's face when she was told of Hotchner's appointment. The woman's ambition would be her downfall. There was nothing wrong with ambition but real strength was knowing when and how to harness the abilities and power of those around you so you could accomplish goals together without creating unnecessary conflict. However, Strauss was beginning to attract attention for removing people she saw as a threat to her own promotion prospects and she wasn't that good; she was expendable.

"Is Reid going to be all right?" asked the Director who was concerned for the young agent who had experienced a very tough year so far.

"He has all the skills he needs for the job but he has to believe in himself," replied Max evenly.

"Are you sure he'll cope, it's a tough placement for anyone?" pressed the Director who remembered his concerns when Gideon had first wanted the rules bent for Reid's admission to the Bureau.

"Reid is lazy. We have taken him out of his comfort zone and he will now have to use all his abilities. Our genius is very manipulative like any good psychologist," said Max with a smile, "But Reid no longer has Hotch or Gideon to act as his safety net or to poke him gently into action. Now he must use all he has learnt in a different place and act like the capable agent and profiler he is and the experience will give him the confidence to manage older agents. When he returns it will be as a senior profiler and if his former colleagues can't cope then they will have to move on."

"You're a genius, Max!" the Director said understanding why it was necessary to remove the promising young man to force him to grow away from his present colleagues who tended to shelter him.

"Oh, it takes one to know one. Reid will be fine. He will be happier if Jo is with him but even alone he has the strength to survive," Max assured and didn't doubt his faith in his fellow genius.

As Reid drove doubts bubbled away in his mind. When he reached home he did not take the things from his car; he just parked and then walked down to the station to get the metro into Washington.

Once on the train, he sat thinking about his life since Tobias Hankel had turned his world upside down. That case had been a turning point, it had forced him to be a patient at the Clinic but there he had confronted himself, even the bits that he didn't like, and came to terms with who he was. There would be no more hiding behind a naive awkwardness that was supposed to characterise the genius in society. In academic circles it was useful for the highly intelligent to play up the 'social awkwardness' where it was a fine excuse for not conforming to social expectations and allowed the academic to get on with what they considered important; their research without being interrupted by lesser minds. Wes was very like that, but he had then decided that he didn't want to exist with the trivia of lesser minds however, Spencer was not like Wes.

The humans he met fascinated Spencer Reid and he sought to understand them. But he was also a chameleon because of his empathy and able to play the part those he interacted with wanted of him. It made the more ordinary people feel comfortable because he was meeting their expectations. But Max knew the truth along with Don and Arthur, these people were aware of the deeper and manipulative Reid. There had been times when he had mis-calculated with this behaviour and felt the rush of shame again over playing the naïve genius when the new team had been formed under Hotch. It had been safe and yet he had dug himself into a hole and it had been dangerous…it had been another campus in Arizona but arson that time…Gideon must have known why he was acting that way but Hotch had not known him before Boston. He had confessed it all at the Clinic and had not liked himself but he was different now, more confident in his abilities as a profiler and more at ease with himself.

Spencer knew he was fooling himself, he was not that confident over his personal life. He felt a creeping panic as he thought about it, would Jo go with him? He needed Jo, she had become essential to his stability but had he been fooling himself all along by talking himself into believing he was in love? He had known Craig and his little family before finally meeting Jo and he had envied Craig's implied stable family background. A stable family was the one thing he had lacked and he needed that to function in society and be able to use his genius mind for the greater good. Jo ticked all the boxes of the sort of partner he wanted but he was scared of Jo's rejection. There had been too many sudden changes all at once with Hotch and Gideon going…the stability he had known in the BAU world was shattered and he was now on his own heading for a new department in a different field office. It was all making him doubt his place in the world. Would Jo understand, did she really love him? Had they both been playing at love because they both needed to create a normal life after their own traumas?

There were too many questions and uncertainties swirling in his mind. The train pulled into Union Street Station, it was only a short walk to the Fairfax Estates office and he would soon have his answers.

THE END

The sequel, **THE INTERREGNUM,** will continue this story following the lives and work of those left at Quantico, as well as how Hotch copes with his Washington task, and Spencer's experiences in Maryland. It is totally AU and will also touch upon what happened to Jason Gideon and will include more from Max, Don and Arthur during the period of financial constraint.


End file.
